numbness

a cloudy day
a broken heart
clouds in the sky
tears in her eyes


a chilly night
a careless heart
no stars above
nothing inside

she takes a breath
she gasps for air
he stares at her
nothing to say


and all she wants
a word from him
but he is absent
...never speaks

i want to be happy
but i can't
i want to be sad
but i can't
i want to have snow
but i can't


i want to smile
but i can't
i want to cry
but i can't
i want to have you
but i can't


i want to fly
but i can't
i want to walk
but i can't
i want to run
but i can't


you want me to come
but i can't
you want me there
but i can't
you want me silent
but i won't

something nice

something nice

just another day without u

feeling blue

carpe de unica folosinta

desi nu am foarte multa experienta de viata am observat o chestie despre oameni...
si anume ca exista in lumea asta mare doua tipuri de persoane: "importantii" si "umilii".
sa nu credeti ca ma refer la pozitia sociala... o nuuuuuuuuuu...este vorba de personalitatea si sufletul fiecarei persoane.
in prima categorie intra cei care se cred cei mai tari si vor sa te manevreze dupa bunul lor plac.si sunt foarte enervanti. ar trece peste cadavre ca sa reuseasca ce isi propun...
iar cei din a 2-a categorie sunt cei care tot timpul ii ajuta pe cei din jur dezinteresat si tot ei sunt cei folositi si dupa aceea aruncati la gunoi...exact ca o carpa... si cea ce e si mai grav "de unica folosinta" in cele mai multe din cazuri
dar in fond si ca concluzie asta e viata... si nu putem sti niciodata in care dintre cele doua categorii ne aflam pana cand nu suferim o mare dezamagire...

1 Mai

nu o sa vedeti poze cu mici, gratare si bere ca de obicei...de 1 mai am revnit la pasiunea mea...fotografierea cerului si a norilor...eu zic ca mi-a iesit destul de bine... enjoy;))

love...is...forever

this is a proof that love lasts even after the death

The Spanish Enchantress

Ireland, since the dawn of time, has always been a land of myth and legend. The first inhabitants of this island were gods and their magical powers continued on through the generations in the shape of fairies and leprechauns, witches and ghosts. Today, Ireland is striving to take its place among the great nations of the world and her people have little time for the magic of the past. This, however, does not mean that the creatures of the ancient folk tales no longer exist but that people's lack of interest and belief mean that they no longer look for such creatures nor are they sensitive enough to notice them if they happen to cross their path. Although there are still some people, usually living outside the towns and villages, who claim to have come into contact with fairies, leprechauns and the like.

I have met one such lady, Mrs. Mary Murphy, a widow of seventy two who lives alone in a cottage some three miles from the village of Enniskerry in the Wicklow Hills. On a recent Sunday afternoon I was taking advantage of a clear blue sky with a cycle in the country (the sun can be an infrequent visitor to Ireland, even in August, and so it is always advisable to take advantage of it when it does grace us with its presence) and I stopped outside her cottage on noticing a sign for Pick your own strawberries. A previous sign for Mature manure had failed to raise my interest.

I was greeted by an elderly lady, stocky with short grey-white curly hair, seated in a well worn, cushioned wicker-chair and enjoying a bottle of stout. She noticed I had a copy of Fairy Tales of Ireland by W.B. Yeats on my back-carrier and immediately inquired if I had an interest in the fairy folk. When I replied that I was fascinated by such tales she invited me to join her in a glass while she told me a story.

It was a perfect Irish summer's day without a cloud in the sky nor a breath of wind and the only sound, apart from Mrs. Murphy's voice, was the birds and the occasional bee from her very own hives which buzzed around her numerous rose bushes; the perfume of which lightly enveloped us making the location perfectly idyllic.

The fairies, or "good people" as she referred to them, loved to come to her garden of an evening to dance their revels in the sweetest scented place for many a mile. Due to the peace and quiet of the area, and the fact that she was a very light sleeper, it was not long before Mrs. Murphy noticed this summer evening frolicking of the good people and decided to leave them out a saucer of the sweetest honey you ever tasted which her own bees had made from nectar collected from her very own garden of roses. The fairies were delighted with the old woman's generosity and kindness and so didn't mind at all when she took to sitting outside her back door enjoying their music and songs. Indeed, she often hummed or sang along as she got to know the words of the fairy ditties, but she never partook of the dancing as she had a touch of arthritis in both of her legs. Mrs. Murphy and the fairies often enjoyed chatting away during a break in the revels while feasting on the deliciously sweet honey still in its wax cones. The good folk would tell her of the mischief and tricks they had been up to (as the little people mostly entertained themselves by playing tricks on poor unsuspecting souls) and she would tell them the local gossip or ask for a magic potion to ease her lumbago or the stiffness in her hands. The most recent story she heard is the one I am about to tell you now.

One of the men-folk of the little people had been out alone minding his own business and trying to get in a spot of fishing in a small stream in the Wicklow Hills, not far from the Great Waterfall. He always found this an excellent place for the job in hand as the fish, although still alive, were always a tad stunned after their plunge down the rock face that they were easily netted or coaxed into taking a bite from his line. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and even though it was still August and the weather fine there were very few people around as the summer itself hadn't been so good and those who could afford it had ventured overseas to sunnier climes.

Anyhow, this gentleman of the fairy folk had chosen a quiet spot under a little wooden bridge, which he'd decided on because he couldn't be seen from the bridge itself and if he heard anyone crossing it, he could make himself invisible. A young couple had recently passed overhead and having held his breath and heard nothing but the sound of nature for a full ten minutes he decided all was clear and to return to catching supper for the family, fearing that if he hadn't sufficient to fill the bellies of all the young ones (and as fairies live for a considerably longer time than humans they tend to have larger families) his wife would have a word or two to say to him.

He had not returned to his fishing for more than five minutes when he detected the distinct smell of tobacco smoke (and fairy noses are very sensitive to such things as they firmly believe it to be a filthy habit) which he thought rather odd as he believed that there were no humans for quite some distance. As he peered around from underneath the bridge he was first confronted by a size eleven black Doctor Martin boot, however further inspection revealed a young couple, each deep in their own thoughts but nonetheless very happy with being in one another's company. The young man was obviously a fairly local lad but the girl was of such remarkable beauty that the little fellow was transfixed, gazing upon her for a full minute without even a twitch. Her eyes were as dark as the peat-stained waters of the stream that ran below them yet they shone and glistened like the August sun above them as it sparkled in the cascading waters of the Great Fall. Her skin was darker than he had seen before and it was clear that this girl had journeyed across the sea from a country a tad further south than County Wicklow. Her boyish short hair showed off the beauty of her face and her slim body was also strong which would make her the desire of many a young man who would come into contact with her.

When the little fellow finally regained his senses, he was surprised he had been so transfixed by her beauty and on closer examination he realised why. The young lady's nose was slightly hooked, which indeed added to her particular beauty, but was evidence that many generations past there had been witches in her family or those with magical powers. Perhaps the young lady was unaware of this and had lost the ability to consciously use her powers but magic power she certainly had. When she met a young man that she liked a lot and looked deep into his eyes with a loving smile she would unwittingly cast a spell on the boy which would make him fall in love with her. (Some other young girls are similarly empowered and it is in describing them that the expressions enchanting or bewitching comes.) Now this, of course, would work extremely well for the young girl but if she ever lost her affections for the boy the poor lad would be left totally besotted, with the spell still on him, but finding his love unrequited. The young girl, with no conscious control over the matter herself, would continue breaking young men's hearts until she finally found the one with whom she wanted to remain.

"This is all very well and good," thought the concerned little fellow to himself, "but I can't stand idly by and watch one of the brave young sons of Erin be caught unsuspectingly in this manner. For if the pretty wee cailín returns to her own country and the young man remains here she may forget about him while he, trapped under her spell, may very well die of a broken heart as he looks a romantic soul" (as are most of the men of Erin).

As the little folk are constantly playing pranks and tricks, and putting spells on people and things, it wasn't long before the crafty little fellow had thought of a plan. Although the enchanting power that the young lady possessed had not been properly used for many generations it was still a very difficult thing to do to break the spell of another magician, so the little fellow put a similar spell of his own making on the pretty young girl making her fall in love with the young man (which, although it may already have been true, just meant that now it was fixed by fairy magic). Now, the upsurge of all this was that if the young lady did return to her own part of the world she would continue loving her man and vice-versa. The only way the spells could be broken would be if the couple was separated for more than a year and a day, at which time both spells would be broken simultaneously and the affections of the two people would be left to their own devices and old father time himself.

So the little fellow closed his eyes, bent his head and pressed his two fists together while uttering the enchantment:

"Fiddley-dum and fiddley-dee,
What spell's on him I place on thee."

And the magic set to work. The fairy was so pleased with his ingenuity that he kept his eyes closed and had a good giggle and didn't notice the young couple getting up until he got kicked (accidentally and unintentionally, of course) by a size eleven Doc Martin and went tumbling down into the stream with a splash

He had the wit about him to change immediately into a fish and swim a little distance off in case he was spotted, but he needn't have bothered as the young couple were so engrossed in each other that they didn't notice the little fellow who had taken such an interest in their future. He wasn't too mad about the near-drowning either as fairy folk have the power to dry themselves with a spell - however it had been a bit of a shock to the nervous system being some two hundred and fifty years since his previous dip in a cold country stream (and that hadn't been any of his own choosing either). But when he looked after the young couple, oblivious to what had happened, kissing and hugging and laughing aloud, full of happiness and love, he knew that he had done a grand thing.

poze clasa a XII- a