the 56th article : i’M still Beloving you’s...in memoriam…of our dreams; We get to carry each other.

The rhapsody starts in the early 2000's, when our childhood was at it’s top; a few children formed a football team and every day, during holidays, since morning until late in the night we were faithful to the religion we called 'football'.
We are and we will remain always just children, illuminated by Pogoanele’s streets memory. And cows which went back home, spreading smell of milk. We are now full of regrets, contemplating time’s disease, by missing the old days…We are some broken stars on the vault of the starry sky wonders, visible only off the great Pogoanele hill, which burning in the atmosphere made some of us to shake cause of the impatience of wishes, which fulfillment exceeds those barriers of dream and night, landing in the middle of town in broad daylight.
From CEC Headquarter to the Court, from the vegetables market to Silo, all culminates with the smell of cooking food, which is widespread in block slum, worthy of a sad poetry; are shrinking as a bundle of lightning rays , in our mind, causing pain...
But we’re not suffering , because we already broke the subjective plane and our human pain, being the model of the one grown on Unirii Street full of long long ago gone era’s fascination, but still pulsing life in our soul, of those who have crossed it day and night, during long holidays and of those who can’t imagine today, itself away from that carriage noise, which disturbs the whole street in a hot summer afternoon, where villagers are hiding in the house or under shade trees, to rest after a morning soaked in sweat of an eternal work, and us, returned to sleep state only by several hours, we are planning quietly the assault, which will continue upset for the thousandth time the daily life of the „ Simple Minds”.
Thus, any disorder is just a light breeze of our childhood which scattered our heart and body, of person born to suffer. It’s a disease easily cured with the smell of fresh grass, wet by a rain of the local common, or by three sanctified wine sips and a healthy spoonful of cage from an elder woman just returned from the cemetery, in a cool ,,Memory of the Dead” morning, or even with a stolen sweet apple, from the Court yard.
So, we don’t die. Neither now or over the years. We are emboding, with every lost breath, into spiritual and vegetal town body, WHO grew us. There we come and there we go, appearing at every bell beat from the cloud of dust,that once ,,watch” from the top, the entire football field, of the kindergarten yard.Those were the days of our lovely lives...

Mihai, ionuţ, cristi, vaLi, gabi, george, marian, ionuţ, gabi, andrei, doru, andrei, cosmin(junior) , Jhonny :)( a little to far of phenomen) , PaLop.(new entry in the club; great match last summer; youth) and DARiUS. – PRiDE Unirii Street football dream team, who has reached great maturity, for optimal athletic performance. Endless !



Copyright © 2009, Mihai (mail which changed and saved my life)