what are we but a bag of bones and love?

some of the most beautiful things wouldn't exist without suffering.

this is the proper mystery of the world.

Romanian village in winter

a visit to my sister's grave

she should have been 23 today, 06.12.2014.

pre-innocence

before we know it, here we are.

and then allow enough prodigality,

incessant solitude through which we

know to arrest the vitality of sorrow.

I am sorry, I did not know that a sun could slide to kill

right down my side of virtual frenzy.

I thought I was standing of flesh and good were the legs

to receive the attention of other legs

and up we were finding each other’s ending.

I was wrong.

let nothing be wasted

"when they had all had enough to eat,

he said to his disciples,

'gather the pieces that are left over.

let nothing be wasted.'" (John 6:12, NIV)

impossible temptation

my music

say something

my last year

(mifi)

the prophet has spoken

Paul Klee

Miti-Dumitri, the piano player

road to the village

I'm stuck

dobre si bistran noaptea pe paralutelor

bath night

Ecclesiastes 1:8b

theological disputes

psalm 150:1-2