A heart for Europe

It has been said that the soul of Europe is there, in the City of Lights. Maybe it is, but the heart is here.

Twice in a hundred years the Ottoman Empire stood in front of the gates of the Western World, and twice those gates remained closed. A powerful family had its roots of strength here. They were the roots of an empire on which the sun never sated for 200 years. So many wars, so many struggles. The balance of power in Europe shifted and Napoleon entered this city looking invincible, but the empire endured. And the tides changed again. More wars, more struggles. And starting here, the war to end all wars. But all it ended, was the empire. And another, bigger war was just waiting to begin.

The history of a city. And yet so much more than history has this city to offer.

Palaces rivaling Louvre and Versailles, gardens rivaling Royal Palace and Tuileries, architecture rivaling Gaudi’s, parks, churches and art collections rivaling the best the world has to offer.

And more, so much more …

The place of our childhood dreams. The place of our fairy-tales. Our princes and princesses await in their castles. Cinderella’s chariot just stopped in front of the main entrance. The Sleeping Beauty is awake. The ballroom is full of guests. And … and I just saw Sisi and the young king entering. The orchestra is ready. It’s that sound … The Sound of Music …

And more …

More music … The Opera House … The Europe’s Song … Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert, Schiller, Strauss … The Waltz …

More …

Sigmund Freud. Architecture styles spanning a thousand of years. The oldest zoo in the world …

The food, the cakes, the coffee, the chocolate …

The city seen from the top of the 100 years old Riesenrad …

Vienna, the city our wandering hearts dream to call home.

Happy New Year

It’s that time again; when a year ends and a new one begins; when we remember the good and the bad; when we make plans; when we have hopes and wishes.

How was the year that ends now? As always we lost some (Michael Jackson, Patrick Swayze, Farrah Fawcett, David Carradine, Corazon Aquino, Grigore Vieru, Ion Dolanescu, Florin Bogardo, Nicu Constantin, Gheorghe Dinica, Tatiana Stepa and so many others; we will never forget our dear ones) and we won some (you know who they are; let them have a life to remember).

It was a year of crises. It was a year of hopes. It was a year of sorrow. It was a year a year of beauty. It was a year of flowers. It was a year of tears.

We are still here. So we can try again. We have a new year, a new chance for a better life. We wish …

What does a mayfly wishes? I wish to live another day, embraced by the love of the swarm.

Ma bucur mult ca am fost langa voi doi in aceasta seara. A fost o trecere frumoasa. Voua, si celorlalti care purtati cu voi acea parte din sufletul meu pe care v-am daruit-o pentru totdeauna, va doresc un an pe care sa vi-l amintiti cu bucurie mereu. Sa fie un an nou mai bun pentru toata lumea.

Those who danced …

A tear

You see her shining eyes; you see the sparks, you see the fire; you dry her tears. You smell the scent of her body; you feel the softness of her skin. You touch her lips; you hear her voice.

She is your world. She is your life. She is everything you wish and care for.

You sit beside the fire, your arms wrapped around her. In your eyes the flames dance like thousands mayflies.

You are a dream and a tear in the eyes of a ghost.

I don’t want to know

How can so much love come from so much sadness? How can so much joy come from so much melancholy? How can all this go so straight to our soul? How can this songs and this voice fill us with … life? How can we feel the inner heat left by her even in this cold night? Maybe we don’t need to know. Maybe we only need to see and feel it happening.

Sometimes the words are not enough to tell everything. Sometimes my love, all I can say to you is this – wherever you are, vaya con dios.

Music makes the people come together

A night for those who like to walk. The touch of a gentle wind. A few stars shimmering in the sky.

Tens of thousands of people waiting for something in the relative silence under the lights.

Then the lights go off. And the silence is no more. It’s music time. It’s her energy flowing through the crowd. It’s the old and the new, it’s the whisper and the shout, it’s the lady and the tramp, it’s the virgin and the bitch, it’s the love and the hatred, it’s the tolerance and the border of insanity. And for a strange moment, a tribute to the music of the King, still more loved than the one we hear now. Thousands of hearts and minds stand united by the music.

And as sudden as it has begun, the game is over. The stars are above us once more. And the people start flowing on the streets, in the sweet end-summer night.

The night and the silence cover everything. And the time passes. And the night passes.

A curve, like the unending horizon of a beautiful island …

A point, like a bird in the sky …

A line, like the first ray of light of a nascent sun …

A butterfly shimmering in the light like a thousand stars …

A morning, like there’s no tomorrow …

A new day, with a new memory.