Tagged: butterfly caught

Unde străzile nu au nume şi norii sunt la nivelul gleznelor

Photos Martha Sarah

Clothes LaChatterie

Shoes Jeffrey Campbell


I’ve got the love and I’m loving every bit of it

Today I’m turning 25, yet this post is not going to be about me, but a generous thank you to all the old and new friends, people who entered my life this past year, to all those who inspired me, stood by me or made me think twice before looking back to the past. If the start of 2012 showed me a version of me I never actually met before, the best thing that 2011 got me was friendships. We’ve had enough senseless self promotion from yours truly, so this is about them:

This is for Shosho, my best and worst friend for 11 years now. She’s the person next to whom I felt the most free and also the most angry, but I guess age had a saying in that. We started talking again one year ago after a 3 year break and I’m glad the worst is gone with 2007 and we have the present for this magnificent, ongoing bound that made memories magic. Shosho is a bohemian girl with one too many graduation diplomas that turned her in the diplomate friend she is today.

This is for Susanne, my first friend from another country, who helped me improve my long-ago forgotten English and speak in a real deal dialect every time we meet. Suzee plays awesome music in Control on Sundays and has a celebrity lookalike.

For Catalin, who threw a hell of a happy nude year party. Catalin has two cats, introduced me to Cuba Libre and is an A M A Z I N G photographer.

This is nevertheless for Anna, who I never thought I’ll see again after high school, when we barely noticed each other. Me and Anna met again in 2011 and our agreement that whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you stranger, together with the cosmopolitan galore, stood grounds for a solid, vivid, blunt liaison. Anna studies Architecture at La Cambre in Brussels and is a very Manolo girl. She also has the gift of imagining things and making them come to life. Especially now that she drew her own Imaginez tattoo.

This is for Iulia, the most beautiful Sick Owens girl to ever hold a Margarita at 2 am, who taught me and a whole dazed and confused generation the miracles of real home made love and the unbearable lightness of a Marni dress.

This is for Martha, a supergirl and a real deal Sartorialist wise street style photographer. She took these of me and now she’s taking London.

For Alex, Ali and Adrian, the boys in my life with whom I had the most fun I could possibly get without taking my clothes off. Kidding. Alex is a soon to be doctor in France. If I were Carrie Bradshaw, he would be my Stanford. With Ali I danced insanely at 4 am, after we realized we like the same guy.  Adrian is a fluent Finnish speaker. I taught him girl talk. He taught me the word pulla. It ‘s the national pastry in Finland.

This is for Vanessa, who proved me that friendships that glue after the age of twenty are the most honest. She’s the one who said I should never stop writing and suggested I grant her the Audrey prize for literature lol. Vanessa is a PHD in aerospace engineering and works on the development of a satellite that will strike space in 2015 in French Guyana. She’s a writer and the smartest person I know.

This is for Bogdan, who invited me in one of the best holidays in my life when I was freshly heartbroken and literally broke. Bogdan is in med school and has a passion for twisted girls who play piano. I totally get that, I would probably do the same if I were a guy.

This is for Miki, with whom I tied one of the most powerful friendships in my life. She’s the friend I’m discovering every day, at who I look in atonement because she has an amazing hard candy heart that shakes the disease in you regardless how messed out you may be and makes the best soup in the world. Miki is the owner of Mic Dejun de Bucuresti, a passionate writer and an uprising DJ. She made me breakfast and loved me when nobody else did.

This is for Ana, with whom I celebrate 2 years of friendship today. We met on February 10th, 2010, when she delivered a bucket of tulips to me from my former lover, gone in the States. I don’t think it was love at first sight but rather at first crappy fun time we had together with other friends, screaming PENIS from a car, passing by a wedding, in a children’s playground and in the mall. We wanted to recreate Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt in 500 days of Summer. I call her Santa Ana because of Que ora es? because she picked me up in some of the worst times in my life and convinced me to think for myself regardless what others will say. Ana was a punk, a model and a DJ. Now she’s the edgy badass superfeminine superfortunate mix of those three, with a big heart, long legs and a Jim Morisson t shirt she has to return to me haha!

This is also for my mom and dad, who did everything and beyond. My mother is a passionate travel blogger and in 2008 she wrote a book about Greece. My father was a terribly talented painter before he started losing sight. He promised to take me away to Africa when I was half dead on a hospital bed with a needle in my arm. They are happily together since 1975  and the coolest people I met.

And to all the ones who took their lugagge from my life in 2011 – this was a lesson i learnt the hard way, and only recently, after so much struggle. I guess in the end we have to be grateful for the people who walked in our lives and made us happy but also grateful for the ones who left and made more space for a bigger, brighter, future happiness.

Here’s to you all, me and TO THE NEXT 25 ♥ Iloveyou

photo stolen from here

Fluturii nu mai au stomac când moliile nu mai au naftalină

Aici toți oamenii vorbesc despre sentimente, resentimente, presentimente, adaugă treptat câte o consoană dură în fața celui mai volubil cuvânt din lume. Îi schimbă puțin câte puțin structura, îi rigidizează forma, îl prefac din fluture în omidă, ca și când ar turna zațul în cafea după ce s-a umplut cana.

Toți oamenii se învârt ca muștele bezmetice în jurul sentimentului, toată viața, nu există scăpare. Chiar dacă nimeni nu găsește pe nimeni, spune Buk în timp ce ele își smulg sprâncenele răzlețe și se rujează după ce și-au încălțat ciorapii cu bandă, iar ei și-au împrospătat respirația, clasorul de replici și au luat cămășile de la curățătorie. Trăim pentru sentimentul ăsta, spunem unii dintre noi în jumătatea de viață în care ne place să ne privim înțelepciunea înțepenită în oglinda celorlalți și să dăm sfaturi. Chiar și atunci când fugim de el ca de necuratul, oboseala asta se sfârșește și-ncepem să ducem dorul celor pe care nici nu i-am întâlnit.

Eu mă gândeam la Marni și pantaloni oranj neon când mi-a ieșit fluturele din stomac, își bătea aripile de toracele meu și a trebuit să înghit în sec și de sete, de parcă nu aș mai fi vrut niciodată să sărut pe cineva pe nepusă masă.

Photos Martha Sarah

What the water gave me

Mă întorc spre lume şi cerul e tăcut. Aş vrea să trăiesc tot restul zilelor într-o ţară friguroasă, ca să îmi lipsească vara, să dospesc pe dig în ger, între fulare şi mănuşi şi ghete moi, iar frigul să îmi alinte genunchii obosiţi şi să îmi netezească ridurile fine. Ploi nesfârşite primăvara şi soare cu dinţi toamna şi iarna. O ţară cu paltoane, trenciuri şi manşoane, cu căciuli şi buze conturate plin cu roşu, căldură vagă şi zăpadă rară, care să-mi albească pielea şi să-mi zboare părul legat sub haină. Acolo nu sunt trenuri ci doar avioane care când se prăbuşesc desfac norii în pături de fum.

Photos by Martha Sarah