Bin ich ein Berliner?

Turns out I somehow landed in this city of contrasts less than 20 days after the 20 years anniversary. Today's Berlin makes me think of glass, open space, arts, unconventionality, but mostly change. It shows me a face that I would have liked my country to adopt in two decades as well...




Turns out Berlin is in...

Vingt ans après...

... by Homo sapiens


(at least 12 walls standing between man and the better man today - west bank, northern ireland, saudi arabia, ceuta and melilla, cyprus, pakistan-iran, rio de janeiro, us-mexico, india-pakistan, korea border, western sahara, botswana-zimbabwe...)

Random thoughts

It's fascinating how you only learn obvious things when the time is right for you... things you should be familiar with, you've heard and maybe seen before, but that haven't left that mark on your inner self that makes you accept them as truth. how one voice can influence a crowd. how great things start small. how it does matter what environment you're living in. simple, obvious thoughts, but it's so easy to ignore them in the whirlpool of in- and outputs that we're trying to have a relaxed swim in.



how different november is from june. what elliott said.

The simple things...

In timp ce picioarele-mi adorm fericite ca in sfarsit sunt la acelasi nivel cu gandul, ma intreb daca ceva m-ar putea multumi mai mult in seara asta ploiasa de noiembrie. Sunt atat de incantata de trei lucruri prea simple ca sa le numesc banale: ma bucura gandul ca parul imi respira din nou si firele jucause-mi vor rasfata perna in curand; ma linisteste faptul ca sticla de apa e la doar un centimetru distanta de mana-mi ce odihneste pe tastatura si ca buzele-mi nu sunt condamnate sa ramana insetate mai mult decat trei clipe; dar cel mai mult ma alinta perspectiva unei dimineti lungi si lenese, cu miros de mar, de zori, de avocado. Noapte buna, Mihaela...

The city of squirrels

If you've never been to New York it actually doesn't mean that you don't know what New York is like. The picture you have of the city from all those movies and series you've grown up or old with have probably turned you into a regular of Times square, Broadway, Central Park, Wall Street, Madison Avenue, Brooklyn Bridge and of course of that magical ice skating ring where they always go around Christmas so that the first snow flakes of the year can start falling on their happy red cheeks before they dare to kiss... And you've probably explored the Liberty-statue-Manhattan-skyscraper-emerging-out-of-endless-sea overwhelming feeling as an immigrant from inside the screen and imagination before stepping foot on Ellis Island. Finally, you've gotten used to police cars rushing up and down the boulevards in weeping siren accompaniment, you've walked on thousands of smokey streets and you've taken hundreds of yellow cabs.



And while you're walking down Broadway, you probably feel like you remember all those small and big things around you and they somehow make you feel at home in this huge city of contrasts, which changes as much from grey November rain to golden Indian summer days, as from the bird-watching paradise in the heart of Central Park to the financial jungle on Wall Street, or from the Bronx to the 5th Avenue. You get the picture...


However, I bet you've never imagined the warm autumn trees at the bottom of those giants, the cosy Union Street market place, with old-style wine grapes and hot cider, the Sunday fair, the Spanish small-talk, and most importantly the Squirrels. I have seen more squirrels during my 3-4 days in New York than in my whole life until now, and I therefore proclaim New York The city of squirrels :)




Quiz


How many squirrels are captured in this picture?


How many jumping squirrels are captured in this picture?

Toamna se numara bobocii...

... si castanele, capitele de fan, borcanele de marmelada, compot, muraturi, scoici si alte minunatii adunate de furnici si nu greieri peste vara. Si daca tot eram la numarat, ma gandeam sa trag si eu o linie si sa povestesc despre numarul serii, doi.
Pentru ca sunt in al doilea an de doctorat, pentru ca sunt la a doua locuinta (m-am mutat in triunghiul Bermudelor) si la a doua bicicleta din Cambridge (egala cu a doi la a doua furata din viata si asta nu de mine contrar unor citate care suna bine), pentru ca am inceput al doilea sfert de secol de-activitate terestra, dar mai ales pentru ca la iarna se-mplinesc 20 de ani de la primul moment in care am realizat ca traiesc intr-o lume compusa din multe lumi suprapuse si surprinzatoare. Iar din acel moment si pana astazi, lumiile cele multe au continuat sa ma surprinda prin convingerea lor aparenta ca detin adevarul suprem si ca reprezinta realitatea absoluta. Numai ca eu oricand as da doua lumi goale pentru una plina, si banuiesc c-as sti si cine se combina...





Doua vorbe sa-ti mai spun timp nebun! Dar in loc de exprimare Somn cel mare s-a pitit in tastatura si ma fura...

Late night dizzying summer post

There was a lot of input this summer, so much that no words came out of it. Always postponing the next post for tomorrow, always looking forward to a better day, in which everything would make sense, things and thoughts would fall onto their right place (sa se-aseze lucrurile un pic) and I would find my mind. That day never came and summer is turning to an end. The 30th of august, and soon I'll sing the 25-year old song that I used to be puzzled about ten years ago. That moment of revelation is just as far now as it was back then and will probably be ten years from now, the only difference is the "heard this" "seen that" feeling creeping in, and some seemingly final decisions luring around the corner. But then there's this two-week old new plan of mine, that I haven't given up on yet (careful, not everything that can fly is edible...). With a touch of luck I might see it coming to life before the fresh snow, given that I'm living in Britain.

But I was thinking about the past (?) summer. I've tried out the British coast and its fish and chips, I've had a short taste of Romanian bucolic landscapes, wedding traditions and mititei, I've discovered a new state of mind to long for by the Portuguese Atlantic waves, while nibbing on snails, swordfish and pastels. I've had the "wish I was there" and "why I am doing this" aches, and I was parachuted back one sunny day into the same confused soul that had swallowed my pen. Somehow it seems like the more is coming in, the less is getting out of this system, and I don't see how this can be. While everybody around me is talking about creativity, it appears that they are trying to build the most constrained box to fit the "ideally shaped" creativity into. They have this clear picture of executive creativity, productive and purpose-oriented. Randomness does not exist or if it does it's a disgusting under-feature that is to be ignored or shamefully disguised. Intuition is foolishness. Absolute logic, even though trapped in the very limitations of our current knowledge, should guide our own lives and, weak as were are, we should by no means give in to the meanders of irrationality. And then be puzzled about the dryness of our non-existing souls and the lack of revolutionary impulses. So what makes a life worth living and how true can you allow yourself to be to your own foolish heart?

How do I find words for describing the what happens when we become our own religion?