The girl and the ladybugs

No matter the scolding and injuries she got in the previous day from her parents,she would still put on her set of shabby clothes and sneak out of the house at around 4 o'clock in the morning on the patio in front of her home.
She would lay down,after taking her clothes off one by one,feeling the soaky grass with her bare fingers and toes.
..Such relentless joy she would feel within when the ladybugs were starting to mount on her arms and knees once more,all rhythmically marching... She could even hear the beat of her friends' tiny legs!
After she would feel her body utterly covered up in red and black trembling dots,she would start telling them the story which he had prepared for that morning.
They would then stop creeping onto her and every single ladybug would find its spot and freeze in sheer silence,charmed by her lullaby-flavoured voice. Her peachy lips would quiver in a merry smile while telling the story. She wouldn't mind the chilly air,nor the very cold dew on the grass firs.

**

After she would finish her story and would reveal the miraculous fairy tale end,the tiny insects would start scattering off her silky skin. She would then thank them and close her eyes. She would keep them closed while getting dressed.
She would patiently walk blindfold on the patio until she would get into the house. Once in her room,she would sit relieved in her bed for a minute. Then, she would take off her clothes with a sudden move and smile,watching the musical notes which the ladybugs had scribbled that morning onto the stave she had tattoed on her left arm.
She would then rush towards the piano she had in her room and would give life to the last musical notes that she had received. She would play the part of symphony she had gathered up to that moment, she would play it again and again until the following early morning when she would get some more notes in the exchange of whispering a new story for the ladybugs.

ma grabesc

ilustration: "Wieden + Kennedy 12",ad school,Portland.


ma grabesc,mereu m-am grabit.
m-am grabit sa cresc.
m-am grabit sa stiu tot,iar afland ca asta nu se poate,ceea ce inca nu stiu ma ameninta ca o profesoara batrana cu indexul ridicat spre mine.
ma grabesc sa calatoresc.
ma grabesc fiindca ma tem de clipa in care nu as mai avea ce sa povestesc.

ma grabesc fiindca vreau sa devin nepoata care ar atinge imposbilul; ma grabesc sa muncesc; ma grabesc sa-i daruiesc bunicii jumatatate din ce s-a grabit ea sa-mi daruiasca mie.

masor timpul in unitati empirice; astfel,consider ca atunci cand pierd timpul,de fapt nu pierd timpul,ci eventuale viitoare amintiri sau evenimente constructive.
traiesc mereu in viitor; ma bucur de lucrurile ce ma vor bucura,iar ceea ce'mi place cel mai mult sa strig este:"abia astept!"
asta nu e bine.

imi grabesc retina sa inregistreze cat mai mult din tot ce-i frumos.
ma grabesc fiindca ma edific din ce in ce mai puternic de convingerea conform careia exista un cuantum covarsitor de frumusete care ar putea sa-mi scape nevazut; pastrez in mine tot ce vad frumos,precum o bibliotecara maniaca.

ma grabesc fiindca,in timp ce eu sunt perisabila,exista atatea si atatea entitati perene; ma grabesc fiindca primul lucru care fuge e tineretea; tineretea e cel mai bun atlet;
eu m-am obisnuit cu tineretea si nu sunt obisnuita sa ma dezobisnuiesc de nimic rocambolesc.

ma grabesc fiindca seman cu mama,iar ea s-a grabit sa ma nasca.