Se afișează postări din ianuarie, 2014


Life. Oh, what a huge sorrow was when I realized that all those high pink walls that my mother so skillfully eradicated around my sister and I began to disappear. I despised the greyness of life. I still do, though now I feel I am part of it. And I do not have what it takes to rebuild those walls. I don't have the strength to fight against everyone and everything. Because they are me, and I am them. I don't have the strength to fight against myself. My grey self that swallowed my colourful self. But I think this is part of being a grown up. This greyness. This tiredness. This seriousness...

Life. What is it's meaning? You always come back to it. And always in the worst moments...

2013 in carti

Daca anul trecut iti povesteam, trista si nemultumita, ca 2012 insemna 13 carti citite, acum situatia e si mai urita. 2013 = 10. Despre jumatate dintre ele am scris deja, mai sint citeva recenzii programate sa apara.Sa vad doar cind...

1.Joyce Carol Oates, "Daddy Love"
2. Yann Martel, "Viata lui Pi"
3. Julian Barnes, "Sentimentul unui sfirsit"
4. Rodica Ojog-Brasoveanu, "Intilnire la Elyzee"
5. F. Scott Fitzgerald, "The Great Gatsby", am recitit-o dupa niste ani, in engleza, ceea ce m-a facut s-o redescopar
6. Nikos Kazantzakis, "Alexis Zorba", despre care tare as vrea sa imi gasesc timp sa scriu citeva rinduri
7. Sandra Cisneros, "The House on Mango Street", despre care am datoria morala de a scrie ceva
8. Laura Restrepo, "Delir", trebuie sa scriu!!
9.  Erich Maria Remarque, "Nimic nou pe frontul de vest"
10. Kurt Vonnegut, "Slaughterhouse-Five", pe care atit l-am aparat incit ar fi …