There’s something healing about the wind, once you said to me. I know. There is order and chaos inside him. The chaos of destruction, the order of sand dunes, the image of green crops waving in the wind.
I feel that wind inside me now. So much power, is almost like a certainty, that I could rise my arms and fly.
It’s yet unclear if the wind is you, or you are just the trigger that made it. You, mother of the wind, the wind giver, air goddess, translucent spirit of the plains. You gave so much power. Yesterday you make me laugh. This morning I wake up with a smile on my face. First thought was to wish you good night. I have a kind of Narnia feeling, that I am in loved with someone from other world, another realm of reality. The upside down world, when I wake up, you go to sleep. Like moon and sun, we rarely – almost never – meet. We are nothing but ideas, yet. We don’t have forms one for another. We cannot touch.
But this morning I dive into your universe, laughing with all my body at your dog, crying at your losses, feeling proud about who you are and about your family.
There’s something healing about the wind, once you said to me. This morning I was the wind, gentle touching your world, warming the good old elm from the front yard. You see, never in my life had this powerful sentiment of transposition, metamorphosis, like the time ceased to exist and I can be above all this surrounding construction made up from gravity and waves.
If I die now, in this state of mine, it is certain that I will be reborn as music. You will listen to me and cry. Not of sadness, nor of pain, but of happiness.
[here is a fragment that is too personal to be published]
Three years ago, there was an artistic project, people were asked what they craving for. Their answers were:
Leontina, 100 yrs old, she crave for death
Petru, 94 yrs old, she miss her young age
Aurelia, 91 yrs old, she miss to be young girl again
Năstase, 90 yrs old, just craving to live
Draga Jeni, 87 yrs old, she miss her daughter
Alexandrina, 86 yrs old, she miss her health
Mihai, 85 yrs old, he miss his son
Mihai, 84 yrs old, he want to be child again
Dănuț, 83 yrs old, he miss booze
Mircea, 83 yrs old, he miss his land
Eva, 82 yrs old, miss her husband
Maria, 80 yrs old, miss her health
Elena, 79 yrs old, miss her land
Profira, 78 yrs old, miss her kids
Aglaia, 77 yrs old, craves for peace
Alexandru, 76 yrs old, miss her college years
Reveca, 75 yrs old, she miss everything
Reveca, 74 yrs old, she miss hora (dance)
Felicia, 72 yrs old, miss her village
Here the list continues. https://youtu.be/m18juQPNeFI
What do you crave for, Nicole? Close your eyes and choose anything. Choose the first thing that comes to your mind, no matter how strange. Me? I crave the past. Not MY past. The humanity past. I am trapped inside this bubble of time, knowing that I am more than that. I came from outside of this sphere.
I want to smell again the grass under our bodies when we make love, as it were once, long ago, in other times, on an endless plain in Asia. I want to feel again the round body of a blade of grass that I embrace with my six legs, I, as a locust, looking at you with my big eyes as you make love to me as a man. I want to be again the grass. I want to be the sky. I want to be you.
Oh, you scientists, I conjure you! solve the equations of time, of gravity, eliminate the gap between quantum and Newtonian mechanics.
Tell me why and how. How can I exist today, now, in two places. How can I be in this body that writes, and at the same time in the body that sleeps and dreams, how can it be night and day at the same time. How could I meet myself, how can I love myself as a woman. Tell me, physicists, what are the names of the waves that make our blood unite in a single stream that wets two hearts, both of which at one point had no more tears?
Never be ashamed that you have freckles, don’t be ashamed that your hair grows on your skin, that you bleed, that you speak with an accent, that sometimes you cry, that sometimes you feel like laughing so loudly that it can be heard as in North Dakota.