Colivia portilor deschise

Cand s-au deschis portile coliviei noastre stiam ca a venit timpul
sa iti deschizi aripile si sa zbori in asfintit.
A trecut ceva timp pana sa imi dau seama ca nu te mai intorci si pana sa imi deschid si eu aripile, sa parasesc colivia noastra.
Sper ca ai reusit sa atingi sudul, caldura si toata fericirea ce credeai ca o gasesti in zare. Sper sa fie cum ti-ai imaginat si cum ai visat ca va fi. Sper ca ai zburat peste toate florile ce le vedeai din colivia noastra si peste toti curcubeii ce anuntau ca ploaia sa oprit si ca soarele urmeaza sa ti se arate de dupa coline.
Sper ca ai gasit libertatea ce credeai ca nu o ai in leaganul iubirii efemere sau in fructul dulce al saruturilor amurgene.
Sper ca esti fericita, iubesti si esti iubita.
Si eu flutur neincetat din aripi, fara a stii destinatia sau palcul unde imi voi odihni vanturaturile, in eternitate sau pe moment. Mai dau tarcoale coliviei noastre, sa vad daca altcineva ne-a luat locul, dar e mereu goala…cu portile deschise

The wine portrayal

Oh wine…you sweet and juicy love potion. I sometimes feel that you are my best friend, lover, confessor, baptizer, godfather, hammer, pulled out nails, multilayered and an amalgam of colors.

You appear each time you are needed and save the moment.
You don’t want to know where I’ve been last night or with which glassy doll I’ve spent the sunrise. You don’t care if I call on you in the middle of the night, if I’m drunk or sober.
You are not jealous if I cheat or go crazy with your cousins.
You are always there when I need you, even if I keep you cold in the basement or locked in a drawer.
You are always happy to please me in ways that only you could know.

My blood is boiling each time you are embracing my soul in any given moment; that of misery, of sickness, of fun or happiness.
You bring people together. You are a life bringer. A life creator. You are a god. I love you. Please don’t leave me.

A suicidal journey that ended up with life

He was in his late 30’s, medium dark hair, round and pale face, with huge circles under his eyes. You could see on his face that he experienced many excruciating sufferings, which made it look like a tired battle field, with all the wrinkles carving deep lines on it, which made smiling seemingly impossible. When looking in his eyes thought, a wide emptiness could been seen. They were far away, cold and exhausted. 

After a life full of disappointments, failures and pain in soul and body, he reached the conclusion that this world has nothing else to offer for him and concludes that the only way out is death, because nothing could touch him anymore after the final eye blink. 

When he looked back in time, the last moment when he was truly happy, was a couple of years ago, while being on a trip in Mexico with a few family members. He therefore decides that his last breath should be taken in that city and place. 

After packing only his favorite T-shirt and favorite pants, he heads for the airport and buys a one way ticket to Mexico for the same day.

On his six hours flight he couldn’t close an eye because his mind was overflowed with all the unfairness of his life and all the thoughts that put him on the plane with that single purpose. 

He started thinking of his family and the few friends that he will leave behind, what they will say and how the world will be impacted by his disappearing, but he realized that only a slight of tears will be shed and life will continue in a normal pace for everybody. 

The thought that upset him the most however, was that he could not agree on how he will actually do it. Should he cut his wrists, buy a gun and shot himself or should he hang from a pole? 

 He was coming from a heavy winter, so when he arrived in Mexico and the sun caressed his skin it felt really good. He jumped in a cab and asked the cab driver to bring him to the hotel where he stayed with his family a few years back, because he decided that the best way to go out, was jumping of a high building thinking that gravity would make his job easy and that hotel suited his needs. 

 During that trip, the cab driver asked him if he is there for business or pleasure, but he answers that neither one thing nor the other. After he paid for the ride, just before he exits the car, the cab driver asked him if he doesn’t want to buy some cocaine from him, to ease the journey. He stays put for a moment, thinking that he hasn’t done it since college and that probably it would not hurt to do it one more time before he dies, so he buys a few grams from him. 

 After checking in, he stops at the cocktail bar and buys a 50 years old whisky bottle then goes directly to his room, gets completely naked, pours himself a glass of that Irish whisky and sniffs two fat lines of cocaine.

The moment when that powder reached his throat, he felt as if he woke up from a really long sleep, full with energy and a power that he never felt before. As far as he could tell, it was a good stuff. 

 Since he was feeling strange and almost favorable, he decides to postpone his great deed, so he sniffs another fat line of the same substance and tops one more glass of whisky. After a couple of hours of this peculiar state, he puts a robe on and goes down stairs to the receptionist, to speak with him face to face. Since money was not a problem to consider for the afterlife, he gives him a 100 dollar bill and asks him to go to the pharmacy and buy him a strip of Viagra, for his limp equipment, then find him two prostitutes and sent them to his room. After he said it however, he changed his mind and asks the receptionist to send him three girls, one blonde, one brunet and if possible one red-haired. He also specified that they should be exquisite beauties, the best money can buy. 

After half an hour, he hears a knock on his door and goes to open it, still naked since he didn’t find any motivation to put on some cloths. In the doorway he finds exactly what he expected, three beautiful girls, with big eyes, long blonde, dark and red hair and with bodies carved as in ivory, that could make hell freeze for a moment. 

 They didn’t go directly to business. First he poured them some whisky and offered them some cocx. They gladly accepted. In the meantime, he swallowed a Viagra and asked them afterwards to slowly take off their clothes and gently play with each other, until his Cocaine-limp equipment starts his engine. 

As he was watching them, he realized that a childhood dream is just about to happen. The fantasy of which he read in dirty magazines when he was younger, the fantasy of sleeping with more than one girl at the same time. With three appealing women, to be more specific.

He slowly and carefully joined their games and found himself switching bodies, lips, touches and kisses with them and seeing them doing the same between each other. He noticed with pleasure that they fancied him and that their hugs and kisses on his body and face came as a pleasant summer rain, after a long long time in the sun. It went on for a few hours, until the whisky and cocaine was consumed, so he decides to order more by calling his provider from the reception. 

 They fucked, kissed and loved each other for three long days, without leaving the hotel room with the curtains drawn, powered by all the cocaine, alcohol and Viagra. They ordered two times something to eat from the room service menus, but they could barely swallow half of it. 

They slept a few hours but only to wake up and start everything all over again. After the three days passed, he thanked the girls, kissed them goodbye and went to sleep for almost another two days. 

 He woke up in the matrimonial bed in the same hotel room, alone and with a big headache, but even so he couldn’t stop smiling when he was reliving the last days in his mind. He remembered, that as he was concentrated on the girls and intoxicated by the drugs, he almost forgot why he was in Mexico and now that he had his senses back, he submerged in deep thoughts.

He realized then, that he lived more in the last days, than he has lived in many years combined and he then remembered that he is actually charming and sexy, funny and witty, beautiful and strong. Strong for whatever may come towards him. 

 He concluded that life is after all worth living. Even if it is only for short moments or for the little pleasures in it – it is worth living. He decided to live, face his problems and never to go back in depression and miserable thoughts. 

He swore to himself never again to consider taking the cowards exit.

As he was flying back home, he couldn’t stop laughing at the irony of drugs and prostitutes saving his life. 

 
Inspired by true events.

Fii gelos! Fii prost convins!

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Din anii copilariei ne infectam cu boala asta. Din momentul cand ne vedem mama ca ii acorda atentie unui alt copil in parc, cand ne vedem prietenii ca detin ceva ce noi nu avem sau doar cand vedem pe cineva ca se foloseste de o jucarie de-a noastra…apare din senin, ca o prietena in vizita. Apare gelozia.
Probabil de pe atunci se trag radacinile sentimentului asta ciudat din piept, a focului ce te arde fara a stii cum sa il stingi si fara a stii ce sa faci cu toata puterea supraomeneasca ce vine odata cu el.
Ne ia ceva timp intre copilarie si maturitate sa ne dam seama cum functioneaza si cum putem sa o stapanim. Pentru unii dintre noi cel putin.

In anii mei de pubertate, cand am trait prima mea dragoste juvenila, a spune ca eram gelos nu ar fi destul de explicativ. As putea spune ca daca ar fi fost vreun campionat de gelozie, as fi iesit pe primul loc, al doilea, al treilea si probabil as fi castigat si cateva mentiuni in cartile de istorie.

Eram gelos pe tot ce vehicula in jurul ei. Pe hainele ce le purta, pe faptul ca o sunam si nu imi raspundea, pe frate, pe sora, pe prietene si cateodata pe caine. Pentru aia traiam, era viata mea, gelozia.
Acum ca imi aduc aminte de cate idiotenii eram in stare sa spun si sa fac, imi inroseste ignoranta. Cum ma bateam eu in piept cu camasa rupta si glasul ragusit, cerandu-mi dreptul posesiei dansei, crezand ca daca inima mea este a ei, ar trebui sa mi se acorde niste drepturi demne de un rege asupra ei. Cum principala mea activitate cand ieseam impreuna in club, era sa urmaresc daca se ‘da’ cineva la ea, cu alti prieteni imbolnaviti cu acelasi virus. Iar daca se gasea vreun sarman sa faca pasul gresit incepeam un razboi civil si seara se incheia devreme, cu rugamintea bodyguardului prin impingere fortata, sa poftesc in strada. Cum de fiecare data cand vedeam telefonul ei nepazit, simteam o atractie irezistibila catre casuta mesajelor sau cum o trimiteam acasa sa se schimbe pentru ca avea fusta prea scurta. Eram un imbecil de clasa inalta.

Probabil chiar starile mele si controlurile sufocante au impins-o pe sfarsit in bratele altuia.

Cu toate astea, se spune ca timpul e cel mai bun invatator si intr-adevar dupa ceva ani, fara sa imi dau seama, am pierdut aptitudinea de a fi gelos sau mai bine zis, asa de tare. Nu stiu daca in tot timpul asta am castigat increderea in femeie sau doar am realizat ca indiferent daca sunt eu gelos sau nu, daca vrea sa ma insele tot o face. Dar intre noi fie vorba, daca iubesc pot crede si ca s-a prabusit un meteorit pe soare, iar din cauza radiatilor a facut pana la roata si nu a mai putut ajunge la mine.

Tragand acum linie si facand un rezumat din ambele tabere a problemei, cred ca nu e deloc productiv sa fi gelos. Te distrugi pe tine insuti si implicit si relatia, creand probleme unde probabil nici nu sunt si facandu-ti filme inutile despre ce actiuni interprinde sau nu persoana iubita, stand singur pe intuneric cu o sticla de rachiu intr-o mana si telefonul in cealalta. Se creaza o tensiune intre voi doi si tu cu siguranta o traiesti la intensitate inalta, cu degetele in priza si nervii la pamant.
Dupa cum am trait si stiu prea bine, doi oameni ce stau intr-o relatie destul timp incep sa se asemene, asa ca daca tu arati si exerciti gelozie, dupa o perioada si partenera ta va deveni geloasa, iti va intoarce fiecare miscare cu aceasi foaie iar scumpa ta libertate pe care o pretuiesti atat de mult, va avea mult de suferit sau va disparea cu totul.

Vad increderea reciproca ca un val al convingerii propriei gandiri, ca un val protectiv a unei relatii, fara care nu se poate cladi ceva stabil. Iar daca iubesti, ar trebui sa te lasi dus de el….pana la mal sau departe in larg.
Dar cateodata valu’ se sparge si atunci poate consideri increderea ca find o prostie. Prostia in a-ti lasa fericirea in mainile altcuiva, fara a controla mereu daca mai e acolo si e sanatoasa.
Dar cred ca viata totusi e un risc pe care trebuie sa ti-l asumi, iar daca e sa trag candva cartea norocoasa, prefer sa o joc si sa fiu un prost convins.

On the way to Chapito

‘We were on the narrow streets of Lisboa, enjoying the warm and conffy breeze of a summer night, after having a few drinks at Primero Andar in the company of two exquisite lips, going towards Chapito, a place where culture, fine arts and quality people are celebrated.  At one point however, the street was flooded with music and inviting sounds. You couldn’t see at first from where it came, but you could hear it loud and clear. Beautiful music combined with peoples laughter, voices, clashing glasses and drums.
It was like we were pulled towards the place from where it came and after we walked a few more steps, we could see that it was blooming from the first floor of an old building, decorated with four balconies crowded with the peoples laughter, voices, clashing glasses and the drums that we heard earlier.

At the entrance was only a Portuguese sign which we obviously didn’t understand but probably it marked the building as being a historical monument and two guys in some curious looking outfits. They wore black shirts, white pants, white braces and for everything to fit perfectly, white hats. Even if they were standing at the entrance, in the same way that bouncers do in front of clubs, I somehow knew that they weren’t. They looked welcoming and not at all frightening as the other kind.
We decided to go in and by deciding I mean that I took her hand and dragged her in.

The stairs that we took didn’t look like much, I could say they looked more like less. On the top of them was a long corridor with an old wooden floor, the kind that makes squeeze noises when you step on it, but as we were walking it down you could hear the music louder and louder, seeing already the entry in the place from where it came from.

Calling it a room would emasculate it…it was a hall in all it’s glory. Probably a few decades ago, this was the place where the wealthy people had balls and high class dinners when they wore their best outfits.
As we entered, on our left side was a stage in close proximity, the long walls were filled with the typical Portuguese sandstone, painted with people from a different era and on the far right side was a mirror wall, for everybody to take a glance at themselfs.

In this glorious environment, there they were…tens of Portuguese people dancing Samba, Rumba, Chizomba, Tzumba and all the other latin dances ending in “ba”. But how they where dancing was the thing that amazed us the most. It was like it was the only thing they did all their lifes, becoming with each step better and better, dancing love, smiling happiness and showing freedom. You could see that they mostly knew each other, from the way they smilled and watched the others but also from the way they switched partners carelessly.

Listening to that rhythmic and mesmerizing music, seeing the fantastic people dancing and being in that fairy like place, made it impossible for us not to give the other the hand and start moving and stepping in a mirror like dance.

You could say that we were bad at it, but we both knew that it was not important, what mattered was the expression of the music that we heard, in the movements of our combined bodies.

Without being able to hold it anymore, I reached out and kissed her exquisite lips and without complaint they were kissing me back, slowly and shy in the begining but becoming more comfortable with each breath we took. She was a good kisser. I remember her fleshy neat lips and the fresh, spring like taste of her mouth and that I especially liked the way she hooked my lower lip at the end of each kiss.

We were overwhelmed by our colliding kisses, so the loud music that was playing in the background, was barely hearable anymore and all the people that were filling the room earlier, were missing now from our state of mind. We closed our eyes and just enjoyed what was happening between us.’

Fragment from my ongoing book writing