<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
(Fragment)<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Exist\u0103 undeva un timp al inimii, un spa\u021biu al lini\u0219tirii. Ai tr\u0103it \u00een el ca \u00eentr-un cuib de pas\u0103re. Nu te vei mai \u00eentoarce, dar \u0219tii c\u0103 ai fost acolo. Poate fi aproape sau departe. \u00cen\u0103untru sau \u00een afar\u0103. La cap\u0103tul drumului, o cea\u021b\u0103 dens\u0103 opacizeaz\u0103 privirea. Absen\u021ba gole\u0219te pieptul \u0219i dai brusc drumul aerului. O rotire ame\u021bitoare ce umfl\u0103 vini\u0219oarele de sub t\u00e2mple. Vrei s\u0103-l reconstruie\u0219ti \u00een alt\u0103 parte, dar nimic nu-\u021bi iese \u0219i te declari \u00eenvins. Eliza \u00ee\u0219i cur\u0103\u021b\u0103 cu gesturi calme un m\u0103r, p\u00e2n\u0103 c\u00e2nd coaja se a\u0219ez\u0103 \u00eentr-o spiral\u0103 verde, aproape perfect\u0103. Miezul r\u0103mase proasp\u0103t \u0219i aromat \u00een urm\u0103. Privi lucrurile din camer\u0103, a\u0219ezate la locul lor ca ni\u0219te martori t\u0103cu\u021bi \u00een a\u0219teptarea hot\u0103r\u00e2rii definitive. C\u00e2nd vrei s\u0103-\u021bi iei moartea \u00een m\u00e2ini, ea poate veni planificat, organizat\u0103 ca la serviciul de pompe funebre. Programezi, \u00eenchei facturi, faci pl\u0103\u021bi, la\u0219i o not\u0103 asupra deciziei tale, s\u0103 nu dai b\u0103t\u0103i de cap. Mintea devine un carusel dureros de imagini. N\u0103molul fr\u0103m\u00e2ntat pe ploaie cu t\u0103lpile goale. Bicicleta r\u0103sturnat\u0103 peste un trup pl\u0103p\u00e2nd. B\u0103rbatul transpirat, scutur\u00e2ndu-\u0219i hainele albite de praf. O femeie cu p\u0103rul despletit, culeg\u00e2nd mere \u00een genunchi. Copila adormit\u0103 la marginea b\u0103l\u021bii cu broa\u0219te. Acela\u0219i p\u0103m\u00e2nt at\u00e2t de departe \u0219i at\u00e2t de greu. V\u00e2ntul tr\u00e2nti o fereastr\u0103. \u00cei p\u0103ru c\u0103 las\u0103 \u00een urm\u0103 parfum de iasomie, iarb\u0103 de gr\u0103din\u0103, cimbri\u0219or de munte \u0219i ment\u0103 de p\u0103dure. P\u0103m\u00e2ntul acela exist\u0103. L-ar putea vinde \u00een sticlu\u021be cu un slogan despre emo\u021bie. Tres\u0103ri. I se f\u0103cu fric\u0103 \u0219i ru\u0219ine. Nu o mai recunoscu pe femeia \u00eenvelit\u0103 \u00een pielea ei, de acum o fugar\u0103 suspendat\u0103 \u00eentre lumi. \u00cencepu s\u0103 pl\u00e2ng\u0103 sc\u00e2ncit, f\u0103r\u0103 lacrimi. \u0218i-a propus s\u0103 termine cu via\u021ba, dar nu e preg\u0103tit\u0103 pentru marea \u00eent\u00e2lnire. Cu \u00eengerul copil\u0103riei, un \u0219arpe al casei, nu \u0219i-a vorbit niciodat\u0103, s-au \u00een\u021beles doar pe mu\u021be\u0219te. Prin ridic\u0103ri de spr\u00e2ncean\u0103, str\u00e2ngeri de gene, atingerea nasului, pocnit de degete, \u00eempreunare de palme, scos limba. Acum tace, st\u0103 retras \u0219i a\u0219teapt\u0103 \u00een vizuin\u0103 alegerea fetei. Mi\u0219carea decisiv\u0103 pentru \u00eentreaga existen\u021b\u0103. Toat\u0103 familia e risipit\u0103 \u00een dou\u0103 cimitire \u00eendep\u0103rtate din Transilvania. Ea unde se va odihni c\u00e2nd vine vremea lini\u0219tirii?<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u00ce\u0219i adun\u0103 trupul firav \u0219i se chirci ca \u00een pozi\u021bia din burta mamei. Moartea nu trebuie primit\u0103 oricum. \u00cenchise ochii. A\u0219 vrea s\u0103 m\u0103 iei \u00een bra\u021be cu s\u0103cule\u021bul de medicamente ag\u0103\u021bat la g\u00e2t. S\u0103 m\u0103 sco\u021bi din circuitul \u00eenchis al distan\u021bei dintre talpa mea \u0219i um\u0103rul meu. S\u0103 ne plimb\u0103m cu fruntea lipit\u0103 pe strada celor fragili. Sanatoriul va fi tot mai aproape. Cel ce inima-\u0219i smulge din piept \u0219i-o azv\u00e2rle \u00eenalt, nimere\u0219te la \u021bint\u0103.<\/em> C\u0103ut\u0103 un loc s\u0103 se ascund\u0103 de propriul gest. \u00ce\u0219i privi chipul din fotografia ag\u0103\u021bat\u0103 str\u00e2mb pe un perete. Feti\u021ba cu p\u0103rul alb nu ar fi renun\u021bat u\u0219or, chiar dac\u0103 frica i-ar fi spart pieptul. Ar fi stat ascuns\u0103 p\u00e2n\u0103 \u00een zori, iar diminea\u021ba ar fi p\u0103\u0219it u\u0219or la lumin\u0103. Str\u00e2nse din gene \u0219i \u00eempreun\u0103 degetele.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Eliza se apropie de fereastr\u0103 \u0219i privi st\u00e2nca \u00eence\u021bo\u0219at\u0103 din dep\u0103rtare. Un v\u00e2nt u\u0219or str\u0103b\u0103tu perdeaua de la teras\u0103 \u0219i r\u0103sturn\u0103 un mic vas cu flori. Furnicile roiau spre ad\u0103post. \u00cen jur, lucrurile iubite. C\u00e2nd a fost fericit\u0103 a cump\u0103rat c\u00e2teva antichit\u0103\u021bi, acum martori ai acuz\u0103rii. Unele specii de plante au fost aduse din locurile pe unde a c\u0103l\u0103torit \u0219i i-a fost bine. Lucrurile transfer\u0103 c\u0103ldura m\u00e2inii ce le-a atins, privirea ce le-a \u00eensufle\u021bit \u0219i memoria dob\u00e2ndit\u0103 cu vremea. Nu te po\u021bi debarasa pur \u0219i simplu de ele f\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103 sim\u021bi c\u0103 faci o nedreptate. Le arunci sau le dai la kilogram. Vor sta pe rafturi cum stau orfanii, \u00een separeuri, a\u0219tept\u00e2nd ca cineva s\u0103 le ia acas\u0103. Pu\u021bine vor avea noroc s\u0103 fie iubite de un cuplu t\u00e2n\u0103r, pu\u021bine vor fi atinse de inocen\u021bi, dar cele mai multe se vor risipi \u00een m\u00e2na unor negustori. Le vor schimba destina\u021bia \u0219i le vor \u00eenstr\u0103ina ca pe sclavi. Cutia din stejar fiert \u0219i l\u0103cuit pentru perii de p\u0103r \u0219i oglinjoare \u00eencastrate \u00een sidef devine depozitul cremei de pantofi, t\u0103vi\u021ba argintat\u0103, ce primea exclama\u021bii la mas\u0103, se \u00eennegre\u0219te sub o oal\u0103 cu flori. Reproducerile cump\u0103rate de prin marile muzee ale lumii, \u00een dup\u0103-amiezi lene\u0219e, sunt dezr\u0103mate \u0219i aruncate la co\u0219, iar ramele se v\u00e2nd la kilogram.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cine sunt \u0219i cine cred eu c\u0103 sunt? O scormonitoare de r\u0103d\u0103cini, o fiin\u021b\u0103 multiplicat\u0103 \u00een alte fiin\u021be. \u0218i azi m-am trezit cu visul care m\u0103 \u00eencearc\u0103 de mai multe nop\u021bi, o feti\u021b\u0103 ascuns\u0103 \u00eentr-un camion albastru ce transport\u0103 ap\u0103 mineral\u0103 \u00een butelii verzi. Afar\u0103 plou\u0103 u\u0219or peste r\u0103murelele cop\u0103celului din zid \u0219i zgomotul \u00eemi aminte\u0219te de cel al brusturelui-umbrel\u0103 dintr-o via\u021b\u0103 \u00eendep\u0103rtat\u0103. Str\u0103b\u0103tute de o lumin\u0103 verde, nervurile se vedeau foarte clar, unele drepte, altele reunite \u00eentr-una singur\u0103, dar toate sus\u021bin\u00e2nd frunza uria\u0219\u0103, ca un schelet diafan. G\u00e2nd\u0103ceii-soldat, viespi\u0219orii \u0219i buburuzele erau complicii t\u0103cu\u021bi ai evad\u0103rii din realitatea \u00een care oamenii \u00ee\u0219i b\u0103teau pruncii \u0219i \u021bipau la ei f\u0103r\u0103 mil\u0103. \u00cemi amintesc pl\u00e2nsul \u00eenfundat din piept care nu sem\u0103na cu pl\u00e2nsul de mai t\u00e2rziu. Atunci am descoperit gustul lacrimilor ca pe un caramel fran\u021buzesc, dulce-s\u0103rat la mijloc. Eliberat\u0103, durerea devenea lini\u0219titoare, \u00een timp ce \u00eemi lingeam ultimii stropi deasupra buzei de sus, iar obrajii se str\u00e2ngeau \u00een \u0219\u0103n\u021bule\u021be sub\u021biri de la sarea uscat\u0103 \u00eencet, ca o pudr\u0103. Pl\u00e2nsul de mai t\u00e2rziu a devenit lung \u0219i dezn\u0103d\u0103jduit. \u00cen urma lui, pielea pare un trup \u00eenghesuit \u00eentr-o c\u0103ma\u0219\u0103 prea mic\u0103. S\u00e2ngele circul\u0103 de parc\u0103 s-ar fi dat alarma \u0219i toate vasele de evacuare se \u00eengusteaz\u0103. \u00cen g\u00e2t se ridic\u0103 un obstacol de netrecut. \u00cenghi\u021bi des, dar fiecare \u00eenghi\u021bitur\u0103 se blocheaz\u0103 \u00een ghemul acela v\u00e2rtos. Carnea tremur\u0103 febril \u0219i, dac\u0103 nu dai drumul lacrimilor, se produce implozie. Dup\u0103 pl\u00e2ns se las\u0103 lini\u0219tea, prin ochii umfla\u021bi \u0219i realitatea devine pu\u021bin confuz\u0103, pl\u0103m\u00e2nii se contract\u0103 \u00eentr-un suspin lung \u0219i organele \u00ee\u0219i reiau func\u021biile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Am scris. Am \u0219ters. Am scris. Am \u0219ters. Totul \u00een cap. Mi-am imaginat c\u0103 m\u00e2ine a\u0219 putea muri. Nu am f\u0103cut ordine \u00een lucruri. Nu am finalizat at\u00e2tea \u00eenceputuri de pagin\u0103. Am tras storurile \u0219i nu am f\u0103cut nimic. Nu am citit, nu am dormit. Habar nu am, ore \u00een \u0219ir, nimic. Limonad\u0103. \u00cenghe\u021bata de ciocolat\u0103 cu nuci mi-a curs pe bra\u021be ast\u0103zi de la c\u0103ldur\u0103. E prima \u00eenghe\u021bat\u0103 m\u00e2ncat\u0103 \u00een Tunis. V\u0103d Tunisia prin oamenii ei. Stau \u00eenchis\u0103 \u00een cas\u0103. Lumea se mi\u0219c\u0103 altfel aici, iar eu am impresia tot mai des c\u0103 visez. Toate gesturile mele m\u0103 fac s\u0103 z\u00e2mbesc. Gardianul care nu m-a l\u0103sat s\u0103 intru asear\u0103 \u00een institut, dup\u0103 ce am cobor\u00e2t \u00een pauz\u0103 s\u0103 bem un ceai de ment\u0103 cu studen\u021bii. Era prima zi \u00een care aveam voie s\u0103 ne desf\u0103\u0219ur\u0103m cursurile \u00een sal\u0103. Ne-am bucurat, \u0219i \u00een cele dou\u0103zeci de minute am cobor\u00e2t la cafeneaua de la parter. S-a g\u00e2ndit el s\u0103 m\u0103 pun\u0103 la punct. M\u0103 \u021binea \u00een fa\u021ba u\u0219ii \u00eentredeschise \u0219i vorbea cu tonul ridicat \u0219i spr\u00e2ncenele \u00eencruntate, \u00een tunisian\u0103. Nu-l interesa ce spun. Privea prin mine, p\u00e2n\u0103 una dintre studente a ridicat tonul, apoi au \u021bipat unul la altul pe limba lor. Sau, la banc\u0103, am mers s\u0103-mi deschid un cont, e a treia banc\u0103 unde \u00eemi depun dosarul. \u00cen fa\u021ba mea era o femeie care nu \u00een\u021belegea ce \u00eenseamn\u0103 mobile banking<\/em>. Patruzeci de minute i s-a explicat acela\u0219i text. C\u00e2nd mi-a venit r\u00e2ndul, func\u021bionarul tremura nervos, cu masca \u00eentr-o parte, mi-a luat urgent documentele \u0219i le-a aruncat pe birou. M\u0103 uitam la el \u0219i i-am z\u00e2mbit. A zis c\u0103 nu are timp, contrariat c\u0103 z\u00e2mbesc. Apoi am mers la po\u0219t\u0103. Era pauza de mas\u0103 \u0219i trebuia s\u0103 a\u0219tept treizeci de minute. \u00cenaintea mea venise o doamn\u0103 care purta ochelari de soare peste ochelarii de vedere, masc\u0103, \u0219i un \u0219al \u00een nuan\u021be de pastel. M-am a\u0219ezat regulamentar, la distan\u021b\u0103. Mi-am pus \u0219i eu masca \u0219i am a\u0219teptat. S-au adunat tot mai multe femei, au intrat \u00een fa\u021ba mea \u0219i a doamnei cu dou\u0103 perechi de ochelari. Ne-au \u00eempins, iar c\u00e2nd s-a deschis grilajul de fier, \u00eencepusem s\u0103 le simt t\u0103lpile, ne c\u0103lcau \u00een picioare. A fost o \u00eenghesuial\u0103 f\u0103r\u0103 noim\u0103, f\u0103r\u0103 scuze. Am plecat z\u00e2mbind \u0219i de acolo, am intrat la patiseria De Carlo<\/em> \u0219i mi-am cump\u0103rat o pog\u0103cea cu ton, o pr\u0103jitur\u0103 cu nuci \u0219i \u00eenghe\u021bat\u0103 de ciocolat\u0103.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Proz\u0103 de Lia Faur<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":156,"featured_media":4609,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[29],"tags":[1030,2407,47],"coauthors":[1231],"class_list":["post-12839","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fictiune","tag-lia-faur","tag-nr-2-2025","tag-proza"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/06\/lia-faur.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12839","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/156"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=12839"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12839\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12844,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12839\/revisions\/12844"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4609"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=12839"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=12839"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=12839"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcoauthors&post=12839"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}Ziua 43<\/strong><\/h4>\n\n\n\n
Ziua 124<\/strong><\/h4>\n\n\n\n