because i use to live counting down days until Christmas

it's christmas that makes me doubt about my age.
the jolly child within myself tilts her head and chews her thumb when it comes to listening carrols,no matter the time of the year.
concerning myself,it is the time of the year when hypersensitivity reaches paroxysm,since i find myself constantly wearing my black eyes,wet and wide-open,seldom blinking. i find cinnamon scenting the interior of my nose. winter and christmas let me carry this precious fragrance all the way,even in the slightly lightened passages of the university.
i can scarcely ascribe all this rapture to any purely sacred calling or meaning,for i believe in the theory of a god we all share,but i cannot put my faith in the christian belief. therefore,it might be Winter Time the one that,somehow,mirrors the need of all men to build theirselfs a break from the constant oblivion of the more or less acknowledged law,asserting the existence of men in order to aid,love,cherish,behold his siblings.
my nose stings and my eyes smart with joy,while i call grandma and hear her jolting with excitement when letting her know i'll be paying her and grandpa a short visit. i would giggle while he would only mind the cookies i brought him....:) i love grandma even more while she's slapping his back for being so shallow. i'm dying for these two subsequent angels(putting things as if i were approaching life in the christian manner).
mum gets younger with every christmas,i'm not simply bragging,she does...and her eyes show their genuine green colour exclusively in this time of the year...it might be a side effect of the snow,so,therefore,it is again light i should be thanking for it.
..not to mention the "present" i got 4 years ago. that would be my very little pooffy sister,grabbing my hand and fooling around with those two blue "
lights" she got from daddy,which she astuttely uses into asking for the lecture of some bed time story about some annoying family of bears she adores. she also asks me to fix her a cup of berry-flavoured tea,every once in a while..
i never get tired or bored with decorating the little artifficial chrismas tree i've been contemplating for the past 5 years..it is as blue-and-silver coloured as i would have liked it to be. there are some electric lights which don't work anymore,but i kind of got used to this old lightening device:)..

the last but not the least, there are my friends,each of them scattered around bucharest..getting altogether my place for ..for for chrrrristmas. well,i'm the luckiest mammal alive to be surrounded by such gifts of nature. brilliant minds,spirits and faces. i would scream an ode to them from the top of my lungs,right now..(!!!!!).. and here there come eclectic sequences of them unwinding beyond my closed eyelids...so big,kind eyes,or very soft&chubby cheeks...gentil,refined and retrained lips..resounding&often laughtery,natural dreadlocks..
i so can't very wait for the nut-filled baked pumpkin,the cinnamon baked apples,and the cinnamon-scented,boiled,red,country-side,sugared wine...on the floor of my blue-and-orange coloured place.. (grandma is indeed the master of Kitchen!)

raport de filtrare a disponibilitatilor simturilor

cand cuvintele ti se preling din cavitatea orala,in maniera in care notele muzicale survin in urma excitarii vreunui instrument muzical,cand buzele inoata in beatitudinea rostirii insasi,cum inoata picaturile sarate de fericire printre gene supraetajate, cand vorbesti zambind si informatia iti rade buzele,se grabeste sau ia repaus in a fi transmisa,cand ulterior,dupa ce a fost transmisa,lumineaza alte grimase si molipseste alte perechi de buze si se infiltreaza ca un flagel in alte zambete peste care se rostogolesc avalanse de insiruiri consonantice si vocalice intr'o combinatorica psihadelica.noi vorbim
cand pe retina se intinde ca un cearsaf compact imaginea celui din proximitate,cand prin pupila primitoare nu intra doar imaginea casta a respectivului,cand sinapsele transmit impulsuri din pricina voluptatii fonice si cromatice,cand ochiul reduce fiinta la existenta globului ocular ce absoarbe vorace planul imediat frontal,inregistrand gesturi,contractii fine ale muschilor stocandu'le drept ulterioare amintiri.noi vedem
cand epiderma pe epiderma se schimba parfumuri biologice si temperaturi variate in jurul a 36 grade Celsius,si coeficientul caloric asttfel obtinut devine preferabil celui povenit de la calorifer sau sursa solara,cand mai tarziu intermitentele sunt ridicate la rangul de mangaieri. noi simtim tactil
afectivitate inventata
aparat operational al anamnezei.

pe cand (nu) locuiam la mansarda

dansam salbatic si inanimat. pe mandoline,clopotei,trompete si bituri in mansarda ,unde,desi cunosteam atat de bine unghiul sub care cadea acoperisul inainte de a se contopi cu podeaua,ma loveam adesea cu capul,prinsa in voluptatea scursa o data cu ultima picatura de lichior de ciocolata.
imbratisata de catre podul batranesc fara de brate. intre lemnul castaniu si pielea de oaie veche de pe podea,pieptanata constiincios. surogat soarelui ii servea,in noptile imaculate,lampa cu abajur patat cu suc de coacaze..ai carui ciucuri de matase tremurau proiectati pe peretele oblic. si daca erau lacrimi,de multe ori erau dense si hidratante,iar porii le asimilau ca pe un rasfat nutritiv.
vocalize ragusite,reverberatii de rugina cazuta pluristratificat pe cotorul din piept,batai grele de gene fixate in mascara si miscari gemene cu balansul.
vedeam toate astea proiectate pe oglinda bruta,neinramata,de inaltime apropiata de inaltimea mea;in valuri toate,oglinda nu era de calitate. pe valuri intrezaream fluctuatii ale siluetei,vernisaj al posibilului,variantelor,schimbarilor..prin aer,cu caracteristici fizice imprumutate de la apa.
dans al resemnarii in loc de cel al ploii,caci ploaia deja venise,facandu’si simtita prezenta in ropotul aritmic din tavan;predecesor al ritmurilor ancestrale.
pe alocuri faceam pauze si sorbeam din ceasca plina cu lapte cald. la fiecare inghititura ma miram de cat de alb este laptele,nu am inteles niciodata cum de exista entitati ce pot lipsi retina de tot jocul iritant al spectrului.