01

Let the silence begin!

After a prelude where the wind began to play with my bush roses, the branches started to strike the windows with a deep sense of hatred. I can say the same thing is happening inside my body. All my moods are unable to find a place, the only thing they do it is to push each other to occupy an invisible place.

I can’t speak, think or react. I wish to find a good sit spot to relax. I wish I could find a place that could make a perfect connection between me and what’s happening beyond the window.

Sit, sit on that green mattress!

I sat quietly, looking into the void and I began to feel the silence. I started feeling like I was in a pool, the perfect place to dive and start screaming. Outside, the rain began to hide all the noise, slowly seeping over all geometric shapes. Everything lies in a white, black or gray silence. 

Until you wake up from that form of insanity with violent delirium,  as Eminescu says “ I think I died a long time ago”, everything seems meaningless.

 But there is no special hurry. 

Today.

00

The wind outside was blowing so madly you couldn't hold a window open for two seconds without a door flinging open and slamming itself to the wall. It seemed like the weather was mimicking the insides of my brain, where an almighty storm was about to happen.

All I was waiting for was the spark of a lightning, knowing that the saving thunder of inspiration was about to follow it. "Please, oh please, God, save me from this torment and deliver the loud sound of the skies' bowels!"

And then...

Then it struck me.

It struck me like a crowbar to the back of my head.

Mind me, it was not the inspiration I was passively waiting for.

It was the idea that inspiration was to be an active concept, not something I have to wait to happen to me.

I had to act on this.