Fragrance (novel) [17]

Pr. Dr. Dorin Octavian Picioruș

Fragrance

(novel)

*

Excessive violence in movies is an all-inclusive that cannot be eaten. It is constantly exaggerated to give you the impression of novelty. Only that the novelty must be human, to be internal, it must pass the glass and not be a prop. Only when their love conquers all, although we know this, we know it very well, does it make you cry. Thew tears are your understanding. They are not weakness, but strength, because understanding means your inner strength. It means what you have understood from what you have lived, because the life is a continuous understanding of yourself. And I let her sleep, sleep a little more, because I know she needs rest. And when she wakes up, she has a clear, loving smile, because she looks at me as if she were seeing me for the first time. And my eyes, shining with joy, tell her the same thing: „I love you too, yes, and every day more and more, so that I have no words!”.

For words do not end, but we say this looking at our littleness, of our life. As if our life were so short. But it is eternal! And our words do not end and we still have much to say, to love, to understand, much transfiguration to live. Because our God is in the middle of our life, He is the One who always changes us. And when He changes you, you understand the ghostual life as a path of silence. Like the silence you immerse yourself in to enjoy.

Maria remained with her childish smile, while Iulia understood too early what it means to be a woman. Parents protect their children from reality, until reality brutally enters their life. And when you get pregnant at 14, you are no longer a child, but you are that loneliness that needs real support, even though you may be alone against everyone. Because we, often, don’t want to help in time, but we help when no one asks us to. When we think it’s appropriate. But the voice of help is when a person is suffering. That’s when it’s needed! Then we should be so close that man can pass through trouble as through a door. And when you go through the door, you know that you had people on your side. That you weren’t alone. But when you stand still in the doorway, you are an inconvenience to everyone. Because no one stays in the door, unless the door is a metaphor. I have always detested the excess of poeticization, which is a killing of experience. When you hide in poetry, you kill poetry. Poetic embellishments are necessary as long as you say what you have to say. But when you parade your poeticization, when you show that you know, then you are no longer making literature, but empty pastiche. Because every time you need your living experience, the one that must reach the audience like a gentle breeze.

Folding the kerchief on the forehead. Grandmother Floarea folded it in her own way, which I liked for its appropriateness. The two „young” old ladies, at the opposite pole, believed that their alignment with the trend would also save them from old age.  But who could have confused them with 20-year-olds, if they were over 60?! The rhythm that trivializes the text. Too much rhythm and blind lyrics. They got on bus 100 with me and got off without me seeing them again. As if they had never gotten on and never gotten off. Because we no longer sit around watching people, to rest in their gaze, but immediately ignore them. Others and others, and it’s not important what I see, but what I have to do, and I hurry, and if I hurry, then let others be healthy. Or let them step aside in front of me, because I have work, a lot of work.

Cough due to tonsillitis. My tears flow, my nose runs, my breathing is blocked, I use nasal sprays and my nostrils are still blocked. And with all this I write novels, I keep writing, because the heat of the illness makes me suitable for writing. It beats coin improperly on what you drink or eat to write, when the fundamental issue is who you are. What you have to say. Because writing is part of self-confession, of this self-giving towards people. And if people would dialogue with each other, they would write novels every day, because the writing is a continuous dialogue with people.