Tic Tac

It's time! 

Forget time, live and enjoy, don't think about when and why, just have fun for now. Hours become days, days become weeks, weeks become years and years finally become decades. And then you wake up and realize time is just a memory now and there is none left for you. Your life is reversed and decades are just moments that flash through your tired mind as you close your eyes. You may forget about time, but time never forgets about you. The stalking thief is always stealing something: your youth, your memories, your dearest friends, until finally it has nothing else to take but your life. 

So is time your friend, is he your enemy or is he just a witness to your demise.  

"Does it hurt anywhere?"
"No."
"Do you feel like crying?"
"No."
"Then why the long face?"
"I don't know."
"You don't?"
"I do, just that I don't want to talk about it."
"Why?"
"It's not worth mentioning."
"Even so it still makes you sad doesn't it?"
"No, not sad but it's rather a numb feeling."

This is not pain nor is sadness, it is on the other hand a horrible mix of disappointment and disgust, like the sore taste of vomit.

When you fight and fight you get tired and need a place to rest, to lay down your weapons and just listen to a calming lullaby  sleep and let your thoughts settle and your heart heal. There is no such place for me, so every time I'm tired I hold my weapons strong, I force my body up and standing tall and with a determined gaze I walk forward never looking back.

But when your blood dries and your eyes are empty when there is no more will to stand, you see someone's open arms, a place to lay and rest. Your eyes flicker ur smile comes back, you are overflown by joy.

 I let myself believe and trust; "I can't be yours because I can be no ones." so I believed and set by close. He does not let me go but he's not mine. I fell into a trap because one day I just woke up; my heart was frozen and my eyes had lost their light and there was no one there, just the cold biting into my flesh. Left behind. Lied. He took from me what I had to give and gave it together with himself to someone else.

It doesn't hurt but it is bitter, but I stand up leaving my weapons behind. To tired to fight to tired to defend I let myself fall and degraded, let the wolves bite from my skin and never argue. No strength  not even to cry for help. So what? There is no one there to hear, but I hope, someday, someone, will save me from my fears. Until then, I crawl, straight ahead, not looking back, just moving forward.

Reprezentatie de strada

(Pe bulevardul trist, frunza castanilor se asterne poteca. )

Batrana: Ca in fiecare alta joi, ma plimb pe strazile pustii ale orasului, cand toti sunt la serviciu sau la filmul de dupa-amiaza. Azi ma simt diferit, de parca lumina pala a soarelui toamna ar fi lumina unor reflectoare, de parca toata strada imi este scena, de parca castanii imi sunt martori nebuniei. Acest trup obosit cu expresii ridate nu a mai pasit de ani pe o scena. Dorinta de aplauze e ca o molima ce iti roade oasele si sufletul. (Se ridica usor pe varfuri, se inalta spre cer cu mainile deschise si imbratisez nimicul din fata ei.) Tristetea ma cuprinde ca un val fin si ma indunda cu raceala vremii. (Realizeza unde este si pasul devine calm, solitar si rece.) Am imbatranit. (Se opreste din orice miscare, singura pata de lumina este in mijlocul scenei pe batrana nemiscata)

Povestitorul: (Intra in scena din primul rand si ii da tarcoale batranei) Aceste cuvinte care pentru unii sau altii par neinsemnate, pentru un dansator inseamna moarte. (contureaza corpul batranei fara sa il atinga) Liniile corpului sunt foarte importante pentru o balerina, iar atunci cand acestea devin rigide, tremurande, gratia dispare. Timpul este atat de crud, nu credeti? In corpul acesta ostenit, o minte proaspata de copila, se pierde in monotonia fiecarei zile.  (Se intoarce in public pe bataile unui ceas.)

     (Cetatenii incep sa inunde bulevardul, intrand in scena haotic din ambele directii fiecare bombanind grabit cat de ocupat este. Batrana incepe sa mearga incet spre public fara sa fie incomodata/ sa observe haosul din jur. Cand ajunge in partea din fata a scenei toti cetatenii se opresc brusc. Aceasta incepe sa danseze rigid, dar plin de dorinta. Cetatenii se intorc spre dansatoare si susotesc)

Multimea: Oare e nebuna?

Un cetatean: (ca pentru sine) Da! Da! Este nebuna.

O doamna catre sotul ei: (il smuceste) Haide! Nu te mai holba, e nepoliticos. (sotul este tras, iar acestia ies din scena)       

(Batrana aluneca si cade, linistea se asterne peste multime si toti se intorc cu spatele si pleaca, facandu-si loc printre ei impingandu-I in laterale o copila iese in fata)

Copila: (vorbeste uitandu-se la balerina cazuta) Oamenii, vin si pleaca, lipsiti de culoare se plimba inainte si inapoi, ce trist. Vrem sa fim vazuti! si ne intrebam cum sa-l invatam pe orb ce este rosul si pe surd ce este cantecul.  (repros) Nu esti tu omul care vede cu ochii inchisi, artistule? (plange, aplauda si striga tare catre un public invizibil) Va multumim si va mai asteptam. (isi da jos palarioara si face o plecaciune.)

(Scena ramane in penumbra.)

Povestitorul: (din public cu o voce fireasca) A murit… Fericita?

(Cetatenii ies in scena aplaudand, iar luminile se aprind. Copila se ridica isi pune palaria si li se alatura. Povestitorul urca pe scena, ridica batrana balerina si impreuna fac o plecaciune si se alatura celorlalti actorii.)

Asteptare

Te astept 

Sub soare pana la apus de stele,

Sub norii zilelor ploioase,

Sub privirea lunii tandre,

In patu-mi rece.

Azi cu obrazul vested in viscolul de nea;

Azi cand frunza toamnei trece ca amintirea ta;

Azi cand sanziene in par ti-as pune de-as putea;

Azi, te astept, cu un ghiocel in mana mea.

Forgotten words

We wake up in the morning and feel like some things changed but we have no idea how little of yesterday remains. We walk out the door with a smile that the next day we forget, and sometimes, always rare, we find a note book, a piece of paper, something that we once wrote. 

"Did I write this?" we ask ourselves.

Something is moved inside us as though we found a lost piece of a puzzle and after a glimpse we want to see it all. We search and struggle and read much more. So close to our heart yet so strangely unfamiliar all those words sound to us. But we grow and mature, we are older and wiser and some words just make us laugh; other times we blush embarrassed from those naive innocent thoughts. Although, we know the past is in the past and it will remain so, some words still hurt when are brought back and we wander what made us be so twisted at that time and think back sad and disappointed of our past. But it will not change and will not be forgotten because that's just who we are. Sad. Happy. Twisted. Sincere. Ignorant. Curious. Childish. Mature. Naive. Innocent. Lazy. Determined. Cowardly. Brave. Embarrassing. Serious. Kind. Cruel. Pitiful. Wise. Hurt. Loved. 

It's all part of our memory as we grow up.