To fall or not to fall

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This is really embarrassing*, but (as a passionate blogger) it’s not going to stop me from posting. Commitment. Just do it.

So proud of myself for this little recipe I came up with today, I think the Universe was like: “hold on, you really are going to take pictures and THEN eat, even though you’re starving??”

Well cheers, Universe, now I’ve lost my appetite.

I was going to, but then I slipped and fell. Hey, at least I was holding on two plates and none of them broke. But I don’t want to bore you with details, so I’m going to write down this easy-peasy recipe for a great wholesome lunch.

Fallen Pasta salad 

You need:

cooked pasta, of course
lots of ripe avocados
lemons
salt & pepper & chilli flakes
white sesame seeds
nutritional yeast
cooked beetroot (if it’s a bit spicy, even better)
kalamata olives
olive oil
and if you fancy, feta cheese

It’s really simple, once you have the pasta and the beets. Just pretend you’re doing a guacamole: smash the avos with lots of lemon juice, salt, pepper, chilli flakes, nutritional yeast and sesame seeds. Then, add the olives, the beets, a bit of olive oil and you’re done: pour it over the pasta. Sprinkle extra seeds, fresh basil and feta. Ta- daaa!

*I promise I’ll come back with a nice plate.

Divided

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My 5 year young niece made this for me the other day and I was a bit surprised. I’ve never told her how I feel, yet she knew my heart is divided, as it is my home. Home is London but it’s also Cluj. I am me but also my self. Realising now the empathy of a 5 year old is stronger than any therapist’s. They don’t even ask questions, they just feel you.

“I escape into movies every day. I think it absorbs the pain.”

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I’m going to start off with this magic quote from the latest film I’ve seen. Like, half an hour ago.

I have to say, I’ve always been a huge fan of Polish cinema (at some point a bit obsessed) but this one is beyond my expectations. I fell in love every minute giving into the story and graphics that would, eventually, absorb my pain. Surrender.

Ostatnia Rodzina (The last family) is a first (!!!) feature film directed by a young guy named Jan Matuszynski (b. 1984).

The film is actually based on reality; there was a real Zdzislaw Beksinski and he was a painter and photographer. But we don’t really know this until it’s too late. Until the whole story that was rolling under our eyes through funny yet unexpected events gets to a final point (it’s a 2h film) that

leaves me with no words to continue. Sorry. You’ll just have to see it for yourselves.

Transylvania International Film Festival (TIFF) 2017 is not surprising at all, not at all. I actually had high expectations and I’m always thrilled for the repertoire of the festival. Every. Single. Year. Without even knowing what it would look like, I have that feeling.

That feeling of living a surreal life through movies.

And on to the next one, so far, Polina (2016), a film that brings me back my all time girl crush, Juliette Binoche. God I love that woman. And I also love the theme of the movie – dance! This time, coming from Bolshoi and travelling all the way to France and Belgium, in search of the perfect way to express one’s body. And what could be more beautiful than watching improv and contemporary dance to ease your pain? If I close my eyes, I can imagine myself doing it.

Inferno (2014), on the other hand, is way closer to the reality of capitalism gone wrong. Both Slovenian director and writer work in theatre and the actors were, as well, theatre actors. What do you do in an impossible situation? How do you surrender, (mr. Eckhart Tolle) ? Awareness, consciousness or unconsciousness, extreme fear, despair, going from extreme suffering to (maybe) some kind of enlightenment? Unfortunately, this one story is everyone’s story. And I think our minds are not that open to accept and surrender to it. There were even people laughing during the movie. What twats! I wanted to say, but then I realised – this is the only way to respond, maybe. Or maybe not.

Well, at least Frantz (2016) was like a breath of fresh air.  Playing with colour and black and white to mark emotions and being in the moment was definitely the part I loved the most. Being grounded, falling in love and failing in love and the plot twist absolutely unbelievable. My intuition failed me this time (and it never does). This time, “it’s not what you think” worked too good.

That being said, I already missed a movie because the previous one was way longer than I expected, but it’s alright. There are 7 days left and a lot to see.

 

learning to fly

 

When I first fell in love with the Pink Floyd it was through Wish you were here. Highly curious and instantly attracted by the playful notes, in the adolescent era of rage and rejection (my top 3 were Metallica, Marilyn Manson and a Romanian indie band called OCS) the little song reached my softer side (I also liked folk) and I knew I wanted more.

The second time I fell in love with Pink Floyd was when I bought The dark side of the moon. I was 18.

Year after year their music, whether made by one or all of them, grew on me. Funny thing, it was never in my head, on my mind but let itself listened to when I most needed it.

Third time I fell in love with the Pink Floyd I was 21 and a half and just discovered the Division Bell. I found myself in a situation that suited perfectly every song of the album and I was obsessively playing it.

Eventually over time I got to discover all the other albums and singles and films and tours but now it’s all about Learning to fly. Today, 13 years later.

It was about damn time.

 

*photos taken at the Pink Floyd exhibition: Their mortal remains, @ Victoria&Albert Museum, London

*chapter 4, where I’m trying to go back

time flowed from the end to the beginning of life (Dictionary of the Khazars, M. Pavic)

garden

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.

And then a song to deeply fall asleep.