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￭ In our image and our likeness
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2007-01-24 | |
by gheorghe SĂ˘rbu
I talked to the tree, to the air, to the earth, to the bird, to the wind, to the rain ( â€¦ ) why, have they asked, does man show incredible haughtiness as compared to what he can be? Initially, I answered: nothing. Later on, I answered that the living grow, but also shrink, and also that the measure is rarely accidental. Of course (â€¦) and they brought arguments why these things into â€śthere isâ€ť are in this way, and not otherwise.
dear Valeriu-Lucian Hetco,
I was telling you in the previous mail that I donâ€™t want to get Corina involved, she has problems anyway, even with the sellers in the market â€“ because she is my wife; I/ my philosophic credo, as you well know, am not/ is not taken for openness, because I/ it reflect(s) the truth and not the lie; or, yesterday, today â€“ and for much longer, and into tomorrow, the lie represents well-being, which has nothing in common with logic, but is pro rata with the umbilicus. The excuse, how can I be otherwise, man, I have a wife, I have kids â€“ is weak; lately, it is wives who sue for divorce; lately, it is the children who turn their backs on their parents; and then? Read carefully the essays published lately still, and you will notice that they all deal with how exceptional we are, but nobody says a word about how machiavellic we are, how coyotes we are, how frogs ( â€¦ ) and all these lies, polished by other lies, we are leaving to our successors, as the sacred book; Good for you! Bravo! Hurray! â€¦ art, science, they donâ€™t even have to be forbidden; the erudite are taking them out of their sense, following the main line of the carpet from the thermoplastic door, and not the path in a spiral of the walnut wood; I am placing on a pedestal, as it may be seen, the character crushed by silence ( â€¦ ) that is, those who do not choose their way in life from the world of convenient ideas, as most of our contemporaries do â€“ the source-drawers, according to their order, coma; there, I have spilled my anger in the water of sharp answers, so all I am left with is to giggle at neurons and hiccup.
have a day filled with accomplishments,
(I am lifting the grating of my irises only for one sky patch to get in, slipping among the branches of the fir trees â€“ covering the entrance to the cave, in which the Good Lord has given me the idea of placing the modern/ coquette alchemical laboratory).
Let me note the moment: the year is 2005, the month is July, the day is 26 ( â€¦ ) I am unpacking the small present given by Corina on my birthday: a Buddha in miniature, slipped with delicacy in my rucksack, and my thoughts wander very many years ago, when she was a lass with green, vivid and vindictively wondering eyes.
I am at over 999 m above the sea level; I breathe in, I breathe out, while I am tenderly caressing Stan â€“ a genuine 12-month cobra, on his head; we havenâ€™t seen each other for 15 days.
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