THE EXCITEMENT OF DISCOVERING

This life-journey
That I skilfully explore
Offers me many and new
Ways of living,
Views and speeches…
Many new methods
Of falling and rising…
Many new paintings of life itself…
So many people around my creature
Speaking about everything and anything,
Everyone and anyone…
About colours and shapes,
Walls and bridges,
Love and disappointments.
Many forms exist
And many shapes
Are developing.
Each colour of breath
Has its own story
By knowing each part of the whole.

The whole is Each
And Each is the whole.

(©Ana-Lucretia Nedelcu/LiterAnART)

Marseille : une ville controversée (extrait de `Service Volontaire Européen – Le journal d’une année de vie`)

Marseille peut être trompeuse à  première vue, surtout si vous aviez entendu dire auparavant qu’elle était  sale, dangereuse et pas très intimes. Ce fut aussi ma première impression. Mais, avec un peu de volonté et de courage, on peut découvrir cette magnifique ville qui parle comme une reine.

Être volontaire à Marseille est une grande opportunité et un honneur : cela permet de participer à la vie de cette merveilleuse ville, très cosmopolite et accueillante. Une année passée en compagnie de Marseille, a signifié pour moi beaucoup de bonheur intérieure et la chance de vivre dans ma maison comme une actrice socio-touristique.

Marseille est une ville touristique, mais ses habitants  ont tendance à devenir apathiques et, trop habitués à leur environnement, ils refusent de voir son vrai rôle et sa vraie beauté.

Marseille offre de multiples surprises :  une architecture étonnante, des parcs divers et riches, des palais impressionnants, de petites îles pleines d’histoire, des forteresses anciennes gardées intactes qui laissent sans voix et racontent instantanément une histoire, le Vieux Port ainsi que  d’autres petits ports, des espaces de loisirs spécifiques, des boutiques raffinées décorées par de belles couleurs, des rues étroites avec des pots vitrés typiquement français remplis de fleurs colorées… Et tout cela parmi une multitude de théâtres et d’espaces non-conventionnels pour l’art, des musées en tout genre, l’Opéra Nationale,  nombreuses associations, l’artivisme, happenings à tous les coins de rue, une intense vibration de jeunes artistes de différentes cultures et un riche dialogue.              

… et la mer … ce coin de paradis … une mer calme qui  glisse dans le silence: elle n’a pas grand-chose à dire ou à reprocher. Une mer extrêmement lisse, verte-bleue, avec peu de sable, mais  un désert magnifique, étourdissant et sauvage avec des roches dures ondulées, des morceaux de pierres… et à son intérieur des maisons entourées de leurs jardins botaniques qui chantent leur maîtrise … la Marseille positive …

Il y a à la fois un côté négatif de Marseille: une ville très sale, bâclée ci et là,  méfiante, surpeuplée, bruyante et rapide comme un New York infatigable, excessivement chaude et humide entêté et … possédée par le Mistral, en hiver … Un vent qu’on ne peut pas comprendre la première fois: difficile, agressif, imposant, avec toujours quelque chose à dire et même à faire des ravages dans les cœurs et dans les rues.

J’ai essayé de le comprendre, de l’intégrer en moi, de lui parler… C’est a toi, futur volontaire, d’expérimenter Marseille et de choisir entre l’été suffocante et l’hiver très violent. Pour moi, le Mistral est maintenant mon ami.

Profite de chaque minute libre de ton séjour et prends au sérieux ton rôle de touriste à Marseille, ville qui deviendra rapidement ta maison et qui te  réinventera! J’ai regardé, j’ai visité, j’ai reniflé le champ chargé de cette ville merveilleuse et je me suis gâtée sous les rayons sahariens du soleil.

Pour moi, le plus beau voyage en France a été Marseille : ici j’ai découvert la dimension interculturelle (le social), la diversité et l’espace d’ouverture artistique. Ce sont les premiers éléments que j’ai observés à mon arrivée ici; des faits qui sont pour moi extrêmement importants pour leurs dimension sociale et pour leurs grandes richesses.

(©Ana-Lucretia Nedelcu/LiterAnART)

 

,,PAGINI DESPRE SUFLETUL ROMÂNESC”- C-tin Noica (extras recenzie)

Filosofia, în accepţiunea lui Noica, se naşte dintr-un haos, o tensiune, o zbatere interioară,  ce-şi pune în permanenţă întrebări şi cauta răspunsuri. Numai aşa se poate naşte filosofia, concept ce pare să nu existe în mod real în germenul sufletului românesc. Există un conflict între două dimensiuni, ce păgână şi cea creştină, autorul identificându-se mai degrabă cu cea păgână, numai acolo unde se manifestă zbaterile lăuntrice. Noica a constatat că nu avem propriu- zis o filosofie ci, mai degrabă, o gândire filosofică care ar putea duce către un rezultat viabil. El a indicat însă numai punctele de interferenţă, locurile în care sensibilitatea românească se precipită în nişte cărţi, nimic mai mult. 

Noica este atât omul subiectiv, cât şi cel obiectiv; el este de accord cu anumite aspecte, însă critică altele, fapt întâlnit în analiza fiecăruia în parte. Nu este de mirare că armonizarea anumitor aspecte culese de la fiecare ar face portretul ideal al unui popor român cu suflet de filosof: asceza lui Basarab, însă nu fanatismul, activismul lui Cantemir, însă nu cel excesiv, misterul lui Blaga care însă, poate fi păstrat pe deplin, având rolul său de echilibru în tot acest tablou.

Românul s-a născut păstor, ca orice popor rural până la urmă, popor ce-şi găseşte existenţa legată în primul rând de doină, dor şi jale, de basme şi ziceri adunate din generaţie în generaţie. Înainte de agricultură a fost scâncetul de copil la naştere care nu este altceva decât primul sunet (primordial) din popor. Apoi ne-am ocupat de hrana biologică. 

Ceasul umbla, loveşte, şi vremea stă, vremuieşte. Proverbul românesc nu face decât să accentueze opinia autorului despre staticul românesc: ‘Vremea nu-i pare curgere, ci stare pe loc, fixitate, permanenţă. […] A vremui nu aduce nimic nou faţă de vreme. O repetă, o defineşte ca neîntâmplare, ca repaus. […] Toate veacurile se înţeleg ca ziua de ieri.’ În acest context static, omul ruralului românesc nu poate progresa, nu poate cunoaşte, nu se poate desăvârşi.

(©Ana-Lucretia Nedelcu/LiterAnART)

… such a fool!

Fool is the one who sees but do not perceive

Fool is the one who feels but do not speak

Fool is the one who suffers but do not express

Fool is the one who hears but do not listen

Fool is the one who acts but do not commit

Fool is the one who begins but do not continue

Fool is the one who is afraid but do not risk

Fool is the one who waits but do not step forward

Fool is the one who shouts but do not hear

Fool is the one who walks away but do not notice

Fool is the one who stays but do not acknowledge

Fool is the one who takes the stand but do not say it right

Fool is the one who analyses but do not live

Fool is the one who owns creatures but do not express intentions

Fool is the one who hangs between uncertainties but feels pleasure

Fool is the one who says not the truth but comes clean

Fool is the one who wants good but does bad

Fool is the one who wants but does nothing

Fool is the one who cherishes memories but cries at them

Fool is the one who needs an infinite company but prefers loneliness

Fool is the one who wants everything and … yet nothing

Fool is the one who loves but lies in fear

Fool is the one who`s telling you `move away a little closer`!

(©Ana-Lucretia Nedelcu/LiterAnART)

REMEMBERING A LIFE OF STRUGGLE…FROM SOME DIARY PAGES…FROM OTHER’S MEMORIES…

The lines you will soon translate in your own way, my dear reader, are minutes of one life, and yet many more, that speak for themselves…here is what we can remember from some existences:

1st of November- Into Slavery

Once upon a time there was a woman struggling to give birth to her child.  After five hours she gave birth to a lovely boy. She fainted right after her struggle and could only see him after a day, being in her power to assist such a pleasant shock. But she was told: ‘Your baby is fine, don’t you worry! He is in a safe place.’ She was screaming wanting her baby in her arms.  The nurses gave her a pill and made an injection to calm her down, so she fell asleep very quickly.  The obsession was clearly significant, that her mind couldn’t get rid of it. She had this nightmare in which her child is violently taken from her arms in the most intimate mother-newly born moment, and transferred to the hands of sick people that raised him in the name of slavery… with an arm cut, an eye taken, begging, pornography and adult sick procedure. That was the life I remember to be mine… taken from her own nightmare…

 (©Ana-Lucretia Nedelcu/LiterAnART)

Letters on Rhythm

These eyes are shinning

Like two magnificent stars.

These tears are full of beauty.

The hands are creating perfect water castles.

What colorful drops

Are smashing this inner body

From this wonderful drawing!

Fingers are printing

Different directions in the air,

The earth is spinning

Like thousands of bricks

That speak their ways.

Everything is following

Those eyes in the mirror

While developing

Strange paradise images.

This journey goes towards places

One can never dream of.

Follow this inner sound!

Reach this inner garden!

This is the perfect world…

The perfect place…

The perfect image…

The perfect…moment!

(©Ana-Lucretia Nedelcu/LiterAnART)

Letters on Rhythm

 

Yesterday I was given a heart

By someone in the dark.

What a pleasant surprise!

I couldn’t feel my eyes

Staring inside

With so much happiness!

He was very shinny

In his narrow look

Wondering what shock

He was given

To this marvellous look.

(©Ana-Lucretia Nedelcu/LiterAnART)

 

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