The key --- how to read a story

  All that has now come to show is just another face of reality... no corners are untouchable when a fingernail points out to the core and strikes the midnight hour as someone awaits on the bridge to say goodbye to another unsolved mistery... Once upon a time there was a story in a book and it captured all stories in the world in a small drop of acid falling on top of the red fragrance of a Summer flower changing the whole chemical aspect of matter and matters.... The neutral part of one can never speak before the dawn when what is to be discarded shall fade in the forgetful pages of a novel written just in time for bed and perfectly out of time for a well mastered arty frame drawing souls on the wall of a church where only a lullaby can play the echo of the past left to linger for eternity in a temporarily perpetual paradox of radiant frequency.
    There, beyond the stars and out onto cold stone, wood or whatever worldly element might cool down the feet of a tired strider of these lands, there lies an answer key to the way of reading all the stories that had been previously written and engraved in beautiful sculptures of perfection on the hearts of spirits to be only summoned at night, to sing a flowy lament and to vanish into cloudpouder... the scientists who contradict this might have never had a dream out of their own mind and the fear of going beyond everything there is might still master their idea of living life and playing with the exit sign because they cannot see its luminous glow... However they too shall some day read a story that will change their ballance on ground and make them dive away from an anxious suspicion into the hypersensitivity of what was once a tale and a brick of gravity for the standing horisons... May the one who finds the key open the lockers of all forgotten and forgetful hearts!!!

Ines and the Storyteller ( unedited prototype version)

  We joined hands and started talking about alliances in the dark... When the day shall shine light upon these lands I shall be gone and now until my departure I have to play with my magical pencil, drawing and denying my own small flash... The milk is cold... the old portuguese houses, the lady Ines listening to my talk on ideologies, on wars and soldiers on what I saw upon my journey, the calm summer night emerging by our sides covering the face of my host with a shadow of mistery. I cannot drink the milk because it is so pure and tasty that my touch might even hurt the whiteness but Ines encourages me with a smile and begins to sing. I like it when she sings for her voice is sweet and calm. I take the milk and wish it were hot so that it might help me sleep early. I want to leave at dawn and maybe all the signs of blood on my body shall be cleared and my fever subsided by then. She keeps on singing and the milk turns suddenly hot in my hand. Stunned I keep on trying to find out what is wrong however Ines transfigures the once calm and sweet notes into something different. The wild tones of her voice take me up to the image of a harsh jungle and as my bones ache in pain and questions the metallic inflections of the song turns Ines into a precious stone of alchemy by a golden dusty light mixture. She cannot stop summoning fire and flames twisting her dress in her dance of illusion. She takes a pair of beautiful wings and hands them over to me as I fly by a song of ancestral reminders holding a small bit of fire in my hands and building up castles with guilded towers. A pegasus strikes midnight with a fabulous wing and from behind the clock, an old man appears with his eternal bag of sleepy sand washing my tears away with a river and throwing me in a hot dense soft pouder wrapped by a fairy on a black restful rose . I am now so small I might as well be detected with a nano camera or some fantastic digital tool on a way to reality... What kind of borring story did I tell Ines so that she turned me to innitial stardust? She told me I could stay at her house if I told her a story and accepted to listen to her singing which was no hard task.... Now she threw an upset eye on the mirror where she could see my whole existence created by her waves of melody.   The wise angel with a shining sword struck three at night and fire came to me once more purifying what I used to be while aching my dehydration with hot softness... Four, five and six the small hours under a big pressure with four kings, five knights and six piano keys subsequently hiding or revealing me till dawn, till the iceman frose her song and kissed my forhead with a cold texture of awakening cries... I run out to the Sun out of the house from which Ines had dissappeared and tasted the sweetness of a portuguese orange. I do not know what that really was but I know that I should not take life that seriously any longer and....... instead of fearing the pain and hostilities of the world I should really understand the impact of a good story. If I happen to come by your house all tired and asking for shelter host me with love and I shall bring the beauty of night as your storyteller......

something quite deep, without a precise title and mostly unedited

...... Talking to the evening, asking it to bring a kind dream for the night.. the orders of the Milky Way might find a new song, a new element in scriptography without any precise meaning.... Subsequently the stars twist and turn in a series of words above the world and in a moment the knight covers the sky in night, his black wings swirling the steam from the late cup of tea and the last bedtime story is told before the final * good night* prayer.

   The lights are gone but there is still a glow of the entities watching over the world and if you notice the small red lights between the stars maybe you could send them a smile.

   Someones already did that...

1. HIM

   I feel so much more abstract as day turns to night.. I wrote my soul on a peace of stone and sent it flying until I broke the window of a heart with the endless love of tears... I never chose but have been chosen through gentle pain and ink of artistic tangled surroundings that brought me from one place to another space and as my dimmensional consciousness radiantly flashes my spiritual reflections on her eyebrow I take that which is mine but just for a moment until I belong no more... and the frame again and I give away and I fall and rise in an endless search... I send them a smile and they might take me...

2. HER

   What is the signifiant and the deep? Where lies a concentrated brain there also lies a strategy of hiding and where there is a mother there shall be earth and sacrifice... I saw the whole genesis and wrote the story of this earthly wonder through objective perspectives, through technical feelings and unspoken proposals.... My task was to learn the universal lullaby for all generations and why it made them sleep they never asked... when darkness came they withdrew to the protection of the inner core of my central magnets and close their eyes to dive within.. I have always been ballanced but this time I thought of changing from a solar satelite into a different figure... They answered at my smile and now I am happy... weather I float or dive they might still take me...

3. HIM and HER- THEM

  Non-parasitic but ever existing, ever twins, ever children, ever him and ever her, of earth and atmosphere, of essence, of purity, fragile and brave with fair thoughts, spinning through endlessness to keep the generations in their continuous rhythm of movement, drawing the widest and largest forests, montains and seas, having geography as an useful friend of the wise historian who shall take charge of waving a crown of stars over his head and into the stories of old.. never turning their back on each other us the brothers, us the formers and the lovers of nature, air and stone , born and reborn and reinvented again shall lead struggles to the light... and now we smile and they might take us....

  The Milky Way has turned into silk of smiles and energies of the wildest... As the Universe shall expand in times to come we might as well smile upon it and in the wonder of that small red glow, our journey might bring a feeling of glory and lust so that knowledge and strength might make one s feeling so as to belong more than worth living......

Lasers, fractals and emotions ( unedited)

      The snoflake is very smooth and cold at the touch, just like a human soul with no hurtful intention. I have a warm laser implanted in my heart and the glowing light directs a silky ray towards my palm where the snoflake has a realm of dwelling for the time being. Within it there are thousands of snoflakes alike which all unite as one when forming a whole and all separate into perfect divisions of the same consisting matter when taken individually living in this perfect continuity of a misterious mass. As my heart steps faster the laser melts away that flaky form and turns it all into melting water of which I can distinguish between the multitude of atoms. Spirals within spirals which take me deeply daydreaming of a mirrorlike frame which shapes and reshapes a static point through which countless lines of all measurable and unmeasurable dimmensions stop to greet the moment of general genessis. This fascinating reflex of producing what was there again and again in such a mindful flow makes the roots of the plant take not only nutrients from the Earth but also feelings of the past which they keep telling like a melodic story to the Sun each moment they turn towards him. He feels them and tells the other figures of life superior to our possible knowledge and thus, the fallen stars that take a bow for a human wish can be no more than emotions which earthly generations drowned in tears that stayed with the soil until the wize stars took them into consideration in a kind of integral priority list. The flake which shall one day be rain and snow again with his own phenomenal story is now a full share of my mindly philosophy as it fragments and fragments without an end only to become itself again for what is old becomes new when the new turns into old. And so the triangles within others that simple neuroperception defines as optical illusions are actually a sequence of infinity if one feels the desire to go further on the path of finding the middle of that perfect circle visible only to the kindest heart. My eyes are now heavy with years of dreaming and so I feel the need of asking for a new laser so that my heart could also depict what it holds within for the ones to come and stand here where I stood... It might be an incredible irony, a spiritual trick or maybe an essential healing method but if you have a better laser, please at least do let me know for I want to invest all my emotions with it!!

Feelings and Structures ( unedited... hard to decide on the details... purely empathic )

  There shall be a change in direction... the continuous search through a mess of variables and well-organized thoughts lost between pages combining the reality of today with a sad prediction for tomorrow... All states turn their magnetic movements to alliances of the new conceptual consensus and once again there is a big bang of information but this time mixed in a different way with feelings and emotions. The forces started gathering weapons as a new dawn hits the wonders of this world shining upon all things built in the past...  The eukaryotic tears of life forming vigillent mitochondria for the military troups to find inspiration for the brightest generation of advanced artillery so soft and soothing tearing flesh and bone without pain, without any expectations brightly directed to a smart strategy that links electric love to tangeable waves of the very new starting essence... When the sun reaches noon and stands proudly in the middle of the sky, smiling to the Zenith and adoring the Nadir the ray glittering on the central space of glial construction burns the vocal chorus of a pagan freedomchant.... the whole world is a desert painted in sparkling colours and the heet drowns the mirax into sleeping philosophy.... The troups  keep riding forward and the states rearange their position in the marvelous picture framed by the master artist who finely sculpted this whole Era just like a puzzle of games and roles... The sun turns to the afternoon mode  and the clocks keep calculating the remaining amount of hemoglobin in the heavily loaded metal bodies of nuchlear songs... The sun has now gone to sleep and the desert is still and tranquil like a fragile maiden... The states decide to have a talk in an iced room in which love and hatred shall face a desolate decision of non-voluntary and uneasy peace... Soldiers fall onto the ground and recite magical tunes while growing trees cover them from the eyes of mortals and from the pages of a written fairytale... This is the night of most powerful emotions and under the tender coldness of sugar-like stars, mindsignals capture a soft image perceptive only to the finest ears and the sensitive hearts....

THE ROMANIANS ARE COMING... But how come ? (unedited)

Open Letter to all successful Romanians in the UK :

 Dear Students, doctors, CEOs, politicians, researchers, teachers, lecturers..... :

  I very much intended to adress to all of you as today I watched the first two broadcasted episodes of The Romanians are Coming. I see that most of you find it as an insult to our country as well as nation. Of course, most of the cases presented were of Rroma ethnics but since the nationality is the same in our ID cards, we are all equal for the EU in our ways and structural perception. It was of great trouble to see all of you on the streets and allover social media posting how shameful this is for you who are doing your daily best to show that our country is not what the western perception frames it is. We are not only that coorrupt end of line with people who know nothing more than to swear, throw rubbish on the street and steel. However what this series wants to point out is that not all of us are represented solely by the famous Nadia comaneci.
  Since most of you are highly educated I would like to show you the other side of the story. Take the social model example: Primary or primordial socialization is a process learned at home since a very young age. Most of this children, living in conditions of outstanding poverty without any possible premisse of ascending do NOT have propper implemented moral values in an initial state of cognition. Their empathy works only as a mechanism when survival is at stake and their only wish is to get another bite of that loaf of bread shared between maybe more than eight siblings. Most of them were not as lucky as we were. Some of us might nnot have lived in high class conditions but might have received propper education to stimulate our thought and will to be both honest and capable enough as to be highly spoken of in our study or workfield.
    Contraventional actions are mostly a label of extreme disperate situations. Take the case of a man with no quallification searching for something to work without a place to sleep and without any skills in English. It is obvious that some of them are intending to do a nasty job with their tricks for another extra pound however the majority have to lie and state that they do have a stable home just so they get permission to work in the UK. I am not defending them but it slightly dawned on me that some situations are not clearly being subscribed to objective thinking.,,,
  WHY ON EARTH do they have more than seven children if they cannot afford a decent living? Well because of cultural reasons and because of the social convention. Another child earns a little bit more  family money from the Romanian state and since their minds are lacking the logics of direct proportionality they cannot manage to figure out that costs grow as fast as the birth of another child.  Regardless the issue they might be inspired into believing that a lot of children might take them out of poverty at an elderly age. If we keep asking why we will never find a solution to the current situation. The key question could be HOW?
  The series is an alarm for the Romanian State which cannot provide standardized EU condition. In the majority of situation a poor gipsy would go to the UK and do whatever he or she can for a better living. Our country offers poor if not NONE of the good practice legal condition for a desirable life. The crisis, the level of earning and the resources are few however it is our civil duty as institutional powers with a role in the State to advance and protect the homeless not in a compasionate but in a more integrative and constructive way. At least some of them beneffit for social services in the UK and trust me, they do not have any of YOU in mind when they do whatever they feel. Prestigious doctors and students or wonderful people are beyond their level of understanding so they did not go there to smother our name. They just went for themselves and their families for the abstract cognition is not attached to their mental construction. For them  dinner and bed are luxurious in the UK for in Romania they might only be a dream...
  I am asking all bright minds to fully understand this social phenomenon and to work together in order to get rid of this situation in a legal and integrative way . Of course this might also envolve sanctions for the unwilling but at least if investment needs to be done may it start from this sign of light.
  I am deeply impressed by Channel 4 and I congratulate the whole team behind this powerful message! I take it as a chance to thank the British for investing in telling our state that we are facing a serious problem of starvation, poverty and strong clivages even in the current EU shining imaginary glow. Let us understand and come up not with hatred for our own country but with concern for the future and will for powerful actions in implementing a decent integration!!

Yours faithfuly,
Petra- a Romanian Student of International Relations

Of Heart, Soul and Son .... ( unedited )

             He left the room... The door closed silently behind him and I lifted myself from the chair without a drop of energy. One moment laterr I was fighting with my moral principles but still my hands led me to the library shelf of coloured books. I found the thing I was looking for. In a book of romantic poetry, the folded papers which showed evidence of the heart transplant he paid dear money for, were clear and bright in front of my eyes. He was rich enough to have a camera in the room and I knew that he was watching me at that very moment. We both knew what was to come. He entered once again. I did not panic . I did not react. He started scanning me from head to toe but I had no  fear for i knew how to handle the situation
 So.... you did it.. he said...
No, I did nothing! You already knew what I would do so it is you who did something. I had no certain evidence that these papers existed but you were sure that I have come to look for them.... I am now so convinced that you did itt and I did nothing... so the fact is yours......
 What ?
Exactly just that.....
You do not have the right to......
But Sir, is it your right to steal one's heart? How could you take his life with only a shake of your hand? How dare you cut the flow of energy just because his beat is so melodic it brings you down? My son is now so cold and now that I miss him I cannot touch his tearful face just as I did before he told me he was to fall asleep....
 So, what will you do to me now? What do you want from me?
 Nothing more than to know....  I will now tell you a story which made me sure of how to find you....
  * 1. Writting Music:
  My son, the musician is writting the rhythm of his heart for those he loves, for the Sun and for all beings. As a new image emerges, a new flow makes him work the mixer for a new song and a new trend in music. Why is he a fusionist? Because he finds morphology in the meaning of a song and applies the function to the listeners thus making another experiment for the audience. His heart heals the sickly and brings love to the ones lacking it. HeartHunters allover the world are after him till someone else is ill and on the verge of dying. that person can sing with a great innerness that transfigurates the world in a bliss of tears and can manage thoughts at a fingertip. This boy's father. the creator of a SoulHunter organization wants to save his son and would do anything including the capturing of the purest Universal Heart.*
  * 2. SoulHunter Daddy vs. WordManager Mommy:
  Thus I found you in a structure of words which I felt so close and so familiar that the letters brought me to you in a game of harmony. I can now look into your eyes and tell you that you did it. I have nothing more to give though I understand my words make you want more and the confusion which wants more than the wanted ones had ever wanted will bring a wanting that might be not a desire but a warning threat. Do not tear your son open again! You will cut him to peaces implanting everything you find and it might not be what you expect. I wanted to meet your son and tell him that his heart belongs to a memory and that he should spread his wings now that he can link to creating as well as singing. No other intention did I have in mind and none will I have from now.... The only thing is that your money might not buy yoour son's life one more time....*
  SoulHunter started extracting all the letters and words from my chest as I worked on blocking his quality without success....
Dad....?
  Poor convalescent with a new heart who entered the room at the inadequate moment... Both of us looked at him and sent the attacking flux over him, his brilliant soul and beautiful new heart. He quickly cried in shock and then turned into bright light and dissappeared for good....
 Silence..... nodding.... tears...
 Did we?....
Yes... we both did it and our sons might write and compose together soon.... only not for us but for the stars...
 We both turned away and left with sorrow in our hearts....
 Hanging on to a memory....
 Maybe some day we will create a different heart and soulfelt, wordful hunted melody.....