Also looking for the best X-rays of dreams in all formats, color and black-and-white. Successfully photographed memories, to be considered for airing on TV networks, paid extra. (Milorad Pavic, Landscape painted with tea)
no one said anything, it was just a step dance underground; and as we flew towards the day, our shadows were fading.
there was coffee all over the floor, broken glass, broken china and I was all scratched.
Some fingers were pointing at my dirty-smelly-coffee stained-dress and I knew that there was dust all over me and I had a red face. Grab it with your hands said the sand therapist
then write your poems with your toes at the sea side and hope for the best. You have yet to finish all those books you started to read years ago and give those voices to the characters you’ve been thinking about in your dreams
I wish I could use my camera when dreaming, I’m sure I would remember everything easier.
“In an introduction to the famous René Redzepi’s NOMA: Time and Place in Nordic Cuisine, O. Eliasson shares his feelings and discoveries about food, after eating a strange dish at Noma, a few years ago. The reader (even if one is not a food lover or connoisseur) learns that when you eat, you open a gate and food gives you access to a new experience, sometimes unfamiliar. Your brain creates a map of time and space.”
time flowed from the end to the beginning of life (Dictionary of the Khazars, M. Pavic)
there are only the ghosts of spiders from that corner in our balcony, that corner where we used to listen to the town’s urban dogs and cats and where we smoked our evenings out before going to sleep.
There’s only the smell of the neighbourhood’s smokehouses and of our spoken, sometimes written words; the smell of paper.
The blackness of our garden and our silence, fear digging up the ground; the earth, our roots digging themselves up amongst bunches of poppy flowers and spring onions, fresh garlic waking up its leaves with a sound so strange (like a howling), this green werewolf.
Our roots, our insectariums, our herbarium – a systematically arranged collection of dried plants.
Moved to Barcelona for a week and almost (- almost!) visited Figueres, where Dali’s house and museum is, apparently, the second most visited place in Spain. Afraid that there will be loads of tourists, I decided to leave it for another time.
The sea was cold but welcoming.
and I enjoyed myself taking loads of pictures.
because I’m so in love.
one of my dreams came true by seeing Miro’s art in his home town
My sister and I were born in the mystical, picturesque Transylvania, sometime between ’85 and the beginning of a new era for the Eastern Europe. Growing up surrounded by natural beauty, coloured by the 4 seasons year after year, while I myself was drawn to the magic of literature, her soul and hands were reaching for the fine, visual arts: drawing, painting, design, photography – going also towards a more practical genre, architecture. But she felt like something that has always been there, yet not fully explored – was missing. It was food!
Ana moved over to London in 2011 to continue her studies and to immerse herself into the magical world of plant based food. Part because of her health issues, part because of her own research in the matter, when juice bars and vegan restaurants were popping all over London, she began her training in cooking (for vegan cafes) and food photography (for her own blog), creating recipes that would amaze and inspire. I remember one time Deliciously Ella popped into the juice bar Ana was working and tried one of her raw brownies. The feedback was none other than “these are the best brownies in town!”, buying herself another one.
Ana returned to Romania with big plans and even bigger dreams. She started work on opening her own space for celebrating unique, wholesome food in the Romanian capital, but the road is still bumpy and now is facing a challenge. As a country of extreme bureaucracy, she and her fiance are struggling to create their vision of sharing healthy food. Follow their journey on Facebook and on Wild Forest