Fragrance (novel) [54]
Pr. Dr. Dorin Octavian Picioruș
Fragrance
(novel)
*
When three women smoke near a wall and each have a paper cup of coffee in their hand, it’s a sign that they have no customers. Saleswomen without customers, saleswomen waiting, and until then they’re setting the country up. Their country is their family and something around it. Little intrigues, little disclosures, make them talkative and indispensable to this world. Because if there were no one left to say things about the world, what would the poor world do?! And one of them, at the medical consultation, said that he was a person characterized by assertiveness, which is very true, then, in his diary, I found the word lassitude and I thought it was an error, but it wasn’t, it was a bookish thing. Then I realized that The Father Stăniloae Street begins right at the Botev station, and Merchants Church, where Saint Dumitru the Theologian served and preached, because it was close to his house, makes a straight line with The Saint Minas Church. And that, aprioristic, we were neighbors and still are and will be, because in a quadrate of streets the theology of the Church was written and continues to be written. And that is why he enlightened me to write the Dogmatics in a certain way, because I am his successor from nearness, from the neighborhood, and he is my rest and daily strength.
When asked who is your best friend, compared to years past, when it was the family, the real family of each person, either the mother, or the father, or the brother or sister, now a certain number of students answered that their family is their friend. Their friend from School. And that they only talk to him or her, because the people at home don’t understand them. Years later you see that that friend or two or three more are all the friends of his life. And that he didn’t make others out of convenience, because a few are enough. Or the old ones do what they do to chase away potential new friends, so that they don’t give up on them, on the old ones. But the good friends, multiplying, don’t drain you of energy, but fill you with life. As long as they nourish your good aspirations and don’t drag you down. But the four, from the german series ended last night, childhood friends, have reached adulthood and don’t know how to have a real relationship with a woman. Because they always feel that women complicate things compared to them, the men, who, in their circle, simplify them every day.
How Mihăiță fell in love with the woman at the Post Office, because she taught him how to send a letter. She started her book with her. And how he goes to her and sits on a chair, to stare at her for a long time. Everyone goes to the waterfall to stare at it for a long time, but too few write about what they understood from this look in the void. The Facebook is full of their comings and goings from vacations, but too few talk about their understandings. That it’s not enough to just go, you also must understand some things, right?! Because if you come back the same, the same person, as you left, it means you didn’t leave. And what’s the point of going, if you come back the same?!! Let someone else go, who understands a lot more each time and comes back a different person, than to go without any real changes! But, at the opposite pole, there’s Mădălina, who mimes changes that she can’t verbalize. She always says that it was cool, that she felt integrated into the landscape, that she had all kinds of feelings, but she doesn’t go into details. So, and? You can start underlining! But she doesn’t have time for details, because her online presence, in front of the camera, eats up her vacation good feelings and even explanations. The writers, compared to mimes, are „annoying” precisely because of their details. Because of what they suggest to you, because of what they understand, because they don’t see things like everyone else, that is, flat, deformed. You expect them to see your outfit, how much makeup you put on your face, how white you turned yourself, what jewelry you wore, and they say about you that you were stiff, could barely find your words at the presentation and were lost in the crowd, looking for a foothold. Who cares about such details and not the brands I wore? Her nerves, so oxygenated, made her say that he was a miserable misogynist, who linguistically stains what he can’t touch. While the writer, although he knew that she was full of rainbow, did not take issue with her choice, but said what he saw in her, what was dissonant in the whole equation of the evening. But we do not like to hear our truths, but only our lies. The lies, a kind of profiterole, are sweet with all their ridiculousness. But you put them in your mouth faster so that you do not look at yourself in the mirror too well. But the mirror of consciousness remembers all our truths, absolutely all of them.