<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616</id><updated>2012-02-15T22:41:11.355-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DROPS</title><subtitle type='html'>Fiecare cuvant e o picatura de suflet.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-7410311412259579370</id><published>2011-06-16T10:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-03T02:34:55.405-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ILUZII</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dOthYBRZv4k/TfpfNxYUNQI/AAAAAAAAAHw/j6TCbDE4t7U/s1600/080910184302.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618908175296378114" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dOthYBRZv4k/TfpfNxYUNQI/AAAAAAAAAHw/j6TCbDE4t7U/s320/080910184302.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Pasi incet pe trepte in noaptea calda de iunie. Inchise ochii si respira adanc. Pe masura ce briza ii inunda plamanii, simtea cum se desprinde de tot ce era si insemna ea pana in momentul acela. Cand deschise in cele din urma ochii, nimic din viata pe care o traise cu cateva clipe in urma nu mai exista. Ramasesera doar ea si nemarginirea presarata cu sclipiri argintii. Si era in sfarsit libera. Putea fi oricine voia, putea face orice isi dorea si mai ales putea calatori oriunde visa. Fara limite, fara constrangeri, fara prejudecati. Putea pluti pe adierea brizei pana la tarmul marii, simtind sub talpi nisipul racoros ascuns in bezna, ascultand refrenul pe care il repeta necontenit valurile abia atinse de lumina lunii atunci cand se sparg de stancile netede. Sau putea urmari drumul stelelor pana in poienisul verde din inima muntelui, odihnindu-se pe iarba moale, in timp ce, in vazduh, pasari multicolore rasfrang cu aripile lor perdeaua de raze strecurate timid printre stejarii falnici, iar paraul neostenit isi fredoneaza doina cea fara de timp. Putea sa-si cante dragostea in cele mai inalte octave, sa si-o danseze frenetic pana la epuizare, sa si-o graveze cu cea mai mare naturalete in kanji pe bucati de suflet, sa si-o picteze pe panza de ape cu franturi de soare. Asta era realitatea ei, lumea ei, viata ei. Asta era ea, dezbracata de toate rolurile pe care le juca, de toate mastile pe care le afisa, de toata autocenzura pe care imprejurarile i-o impuneau. Si goliciunea aceasta ii placea. Si-o dorea cu toata fiinta ei si putea spune ca a si avut-o, daca n-ar fi fost doar o himera care i se destrama acum printre degetele inclestate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-7410311412259579370?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/7410311412259579370/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=7410311412259579370' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/7410311412259579370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/7410311412259579370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2011/06/pasi-incet-pe-trepte-in-noaptea-calda.html' title='ILUZII'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dOthYBRZv4k/TfpfNxYUNQI/AAAAAAAAAHw/j6TCbDE4t7U/s72-c/080910184302.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-8436125664009985427</id><published>2011-04-23T04:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T05:10:54.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SLOW MOTION</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Privesc cu ochi stinsi cum lumea pictata in culori trece, se schimba, traieste. Iar eu sunt prinsa in acelasi pustiu cenusiu si rece unde timpul opreste totul in loc. Aici, orele trec doar pentru a-ti arata ca nu exista scapare din acest nimic, ca nu ai nicio putere, ca trebuie sa te supui si sa te tarasti mai departe in gol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Am ramas fara aer, sugrumata de propria-mi neputinta. Vreau sa ma ridic, sa respir adanc si sa fug fara sa privesc in urma. Dar genunchii-mi prea raniti sangereaza, aerul imbacsit de atatea frustrari imi ineaca plamanii si doar un racnet surd imi scapa printre buzele-mi uscate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sleita, imi lipesc trupul de pamantul tare si astept sa treaca din nou orele. Orele care aduc acelasi nimic ce-mi mistuie incet-incet fiecare strop de viata.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-8436125664009985427?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/8436125664009985427/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=8436125664009985427' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/8436125664009985427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/8436125664009985427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2011/04/slow-motion.html' title='SLOW MOTION'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-8052195786759416124</id><published>2011-04-23T04:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T04:56:45.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>UN NOU DRUM</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;De fiecare data cand plec, o parte din mine ramane in urma: cu mama, care asteapta ingrijorata sa ma intorc; cu tine, pentru ca imi lipsesti inca dinainte de a ne lua ramas-bun; cu toate locurile in care am fost impreuna, pentru ca au imprimate bucati din sufletul meu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Parfumul proaspat si dulce ca de primavara si placuta adiere a vantului ma insotesc pana in statie. In microbuz e semiintuneric, oamenii isi vorbesc in soapta, iar pe fundal se aude o manea obosita. Dar mintea si gandul meu sunt prea departe pentru a le baga in seama.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Imi lipesc fruntea de geam si privesc absorbita imaginile care se deruleaza una dupa alta inaintea mea. Soarele a apus de curand si a colorat cerul in nuante de portocaliu, roz, bleu si violet. Pe masura ce inaintam, casele devin tot mai mici, iar lacul acapareaza tot peisajul. In departare, luminile de la Midia dau impresia unui palat ascuns in nori. E frumos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sunt trista ca plec si am straniul sentiment ca e pentru totdeauna, dar, in acelasi timp, sunt increzatoare si plina de speranta. Stiu ca toate acestea trebuiau sa se intample. Stiu ca ma indrept spre ceea ce imi este scris, pas cu pas. Stiu ca, dincolo de orizontul multicolor, ma asteapta...viata mea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-8052195786759416124?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/8052195786759416124/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=8052195786759416124' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/8052195786759416124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/8052195786759416124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2011/04/un-nou-drum.html' title='UN NOU DRUM'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-3026721123269890892</id><published>2011-01-30T03:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T06:25:35.575-08:00</updated><title type='text'>EVADARE DIN NEANT</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567983263579827810" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TUVzRxz-7mI/AAAAAAAAAHY/t8q1GiAD-pI/s320/080910193505.jpg" /&gt;Trecutul mi-a demonstrat ca tot ce am realizat pana acum a fost meritat, ca, daca am avut noroc, nu a fost niciodata gratuit, ca, daca am fost fericita, am luptat pentru asta, ca, daca am obtinut ce mi-am dorit, nu a fost niciodata de-a gata. Si, mai ales, mi-a adus langa mine oameni care si-au pus adanc amprenta pe sufletul meu si acolo vor ramane pentru totdeauna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Prezentul imi pare acum o explozie de culori, de senzatii noi, de forte proaspete, de dragoste, de incredere si de speranta pentru un viitor care pas cu pas, zi de zi, prinde contur. Un contur pe care, in ultimii ani, mi l-am trasat in minte in fiecare noapte inainte sa adorm. Si e frumos. Viata e frumoasa si capata un nou sens, mai profund. Si nu imi pasa daca e o iluzie, pentru ca am puterea de a o face realitate. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;De astazi, adaug cuvant dupa cuvant, rand dupa rand, fila dupa fila la propria mea poveste. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-3026721123269890892?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/3026721123269890892/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=3026721123269890892' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/3026721123269890892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/3026721123269890892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2011/01/evadare-din-neant.html' title='EVADARE DIN NEANT'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TUVzRxz-7mI/AAAAAAAAAHY/t8q1GiAD-pI/s72-c/080910193505.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-943351163476259303</id><published>2010-12-07T11:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T08:23:22.705-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LECTIE DE IUBIRE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TP6jMIEtTcI/AAAAAAAAAHM/TVDw6GNNvKs/s1600/102410154554.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 223px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 327px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548051219688017346" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TP6jMIEtTcI/AAAAAAAAAHM/TVDw6GNNvKs/s320/102410154554.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Privesc de cateva ore strada pe care altadata veneai. E intuneric, dar becul o lumineaza suficient cat sa vad ca e pustie... de pasii tai. Au fost vremuri cand ai fi venit la orice chemare a mea, cand m-ai fi ascultat si cand eu as fi putut sa vorbesc... despre mine. Erau vremurile cand imi doream sa fiu totul pentru tine si eram prea putin. Si astazi... ai raspunde chemarii mele, dar nu ai pasi pe strada aceasta, m-ai asculta, dar mai atent si poate ai si intelege mai mult. Atat doar... sa vorbesc. Dar nu pot. Nu pot sa-ti spun nimic despre ce simt si ce gandesc. E atat de profund, incat ma tem ca, daca va prinde glas, va suna banal si lipsit de importanta. Azi, nu merit sa fiu &lt;em&gt;totul pentru tine,&lt;/em&gt; nu stiu sa te iubesc. Si totusi sunt. Si totusi &lt;em&gt;esti&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-943351163476259303?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/943351163476259303/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=943351163476259303' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/943351163476259303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/943351163476259303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2010/12/lectie-de-iubire.html' title='LECTIE DE IUBIRE'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TP6jMIEtTcI/AAAAAAAAAHM/TVDw6GNNvKs/s72-c/102410154554.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-6664262724551655664</id><published>2010-11-25T04:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T09:26:53.749-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SCRISOARE CATRE TINE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TPE-MTIXbJI/AAAAAAAAAHE/KNbWeNSxxH0/s1600/102510152849.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544280997284506770" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TPE-MTIXbJI/AAAAAAAAAHE/KNbWeNSxxH0/s320/102510152849.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;A inceput cu prietenie si a continuat cu iubire. A inaintat contra vantului si s-a transformat in tornada. A sters tot ce eram separat si ne-a inchegat intr-unul.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Daca n-ai fi tu... as fi un suflet inghetat... m-as pierde in suferinta... as plange lacrimi impietrite din ochi prea reci... m-as ridica fara emotie... as rataci in nestire... nu as avea unde ma intoarce... nu ar fi nimeni care sa ma astepte... nu as putea sa privesc mai departe de azi... nu as avea incredere... nu as cunoaste daruirea neconditionata... nu as sti sa iubesc... nu as putea sa simt. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Daca n-ai fi tu... eu nu as fi umana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-6664262724551655664?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/6664262724551655664/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=6664262724551655664' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/6664262724551655664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/6664262724551655664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2010/11/scrisoare-catre-tine.html' title='SCRISOARE CATRE TINE'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TPE-MTIXbJI/AAAAAAAAAHE/KNbWeNSxxH0/s72-c/102510152849.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-5943862399406584794</id><published>2010-11-24T13:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T14:31:47.528-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DINTRE ZIDURI DE CARTON</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TO2SPGEyzUI/AAAAAAAAAGk/hZhsHi3c13g/s1600/102410161117.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543247504389360962" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TO2SPGEyzUI/AAAAAAAAAGk/hZhsHi3c13g/s320/102410161117.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;M-am izolat...de lume, de prieteni, de realitate. M-am izolat de tine si te ranesc...pe tine si tot ceea ce am putea fi impreuna. Si cel mai rau e ca...m-am izolat de mine, mi-am pierdut vointa si m-am lasat la voia intamplarii sperand ca intr-o zi totul se va schimba, eu ma voi schimba si totul va fi perfect. Dar zilele ma prind, una dupa alta, mereu in fata unui ecran. E un ecran care imi ofera o lume asa cum uneori o visez pe a mea, imi ofera un stil de viata, calatorii si impresii, ba chiar povesti si sentimente profunde...dar care nu imi apartin si care nu au, poate, nicio legatura cu mine sau cu cine sunt eu. Si atunci imi dau seama ca de fapt nu doresc sa imi petrec toata viata privind sau citind povestea altora. Vreau propria mea poveste. Cineva spunea odata ca, daca nu faci tu un lucru, il vor face altii. Si intotdeauna vor fi altii care vor face ceea ce altii nu au avut vointa sau curajul sa faca. Si avea dreptate. In ultimii ani, am vazut atatia altii care au facut lucrurile pe care eu mi le-am dorit, in timp ce eu mi-am gasit mereu scuze. Dar pana cand? Am uitat cine sunt, dar stiu ce vreau. Si pentru asta voi merge pana la capatul lumii si inapoi, daca e nevoie. Iar undeva, in drumul asta, cu siguranta ma voi regasi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-5943862399406584794?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/5943862399406584794/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=5943862399406584794' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/5943862399406584794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/5943862399406584794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2010/11/m-am-izolat.html' title='DINTRE ZIDURI DE CARTON'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TO2SPGEyzUI/AAAAAAAAAGk/hZhsHi3c13g/s72-c/102410161117.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-189052488165478732</id><published>2010-10-27T04:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T06:47:30.548-07:00</updated><title type='text'>E TOAMNA IAR...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TMgsgbbupgI/AAAAAAAAAGU/cjowWSRagPo/s1600/102610165909.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 192px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 236px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532721077856151042" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TMgsgbbupgI/AAAAAAAAAGU/cjowWSRagPo/s200/102610165909.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ...si o simt. O simt in fiecare frunza care se destrama zgomotos sub pasii mei, in toti copacii care-si inalta grandioasele coroane ruginii inaintea mea, in parfumul dulce al naturii mangaiate de soarele timid. Si, mai presus de toate, o simt in suflet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Si nu e altceva decat...iubire. Si vise. Si speranta. Si o credinta puternica in noi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E toamna iar si, de data asta, eu nu o privesc de la fereastra, ci sunt in mijlocul ei, traind-o, simtind-o. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-189052488165478732?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/189052488165478732/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=189052488165478732' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/189052488165478732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/189052488165478732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2010/10/e-toamna-iar.html' title='E TOAMNA IAR...'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/TMgsgbbupgI/AAAAAAAAAGU/cjowWSRagPo/s72-c/102610165909.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-2970319844172635285</id><published>2010-07-10T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T11:19:39.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O PRIMA SCHIMBARE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Am renuntat la &lt;em&gt;Fulg De Nea&lt;/em&gt;. Si asta, pentru ca oricat de mult as fi vrut sa fac din blog unul al observatiilor despre oamenii din jurul meu, nu reusesc. Cel putin nu aici. Initial, am avut o viziune naiva. Credeam ca o sa fie usor sa cunosc oameni si sa vorbesc despre ei. Dar am realizat ca, pentru a face acest lucru, mai intai trebuie sa ma cunosc pe mine. Am pus prea multe picaturi de suflet in tot ce am scris, asa ca &lt;em&gt;DROPS &lt;/em&gt;este mai potrivit, mai personal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-2970319844172635285?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/2970319844172635285/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=2970319844172635285' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/2970319844172635285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/2970319844172635285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2010/07/o-prima-schimbare.html' title='O PRIMA SCHIMBARE'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-5823416413197327690</id><published>2009-09-28T05:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T08:09:54.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'>IMPREUNA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sunt nopti in care nu ma mai tem, pentru ca tu ma strangi in brate. Sunt dimineti in care soarele straluceste mai putenic, pentru ca tu imi zambesti. Sunt zile in care pot sa infrunt usor obstacole, sa tin capul sus si sa merg inainte indiferent de infrangeri. Sunt zile in care pot sa-mi indeplinesc pe rand visele. Pentru ca tu ma tii de mana. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Si nu mai are importanta ce a fost, nici cine a gresit si nici din ce cauza. Pentru ca am gresit amandoi. Pentru ca ne-am invatat lectia si am mers mai departe. Pentru ca am fost puternici si am rezistat. Pentru ca a fost sinceritate, a fost prietenie si in final...a fost iubire.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Si azi...sunt fericita. Azi am un nou drum inaintea mea, dar tu nu esti la capatul lui...ci pasesti pe el alaturi de mine. Si azi este tot ce conteaza, este ziua de ieri pentru un nou maine...impreuna.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-5823416413197327690?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/5823416413197327690/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=5823416413197327690' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/5823416413197327690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/5823416413197327690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/09/impreuna.html' title='IMPREUNA'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-7178577825271263302</id><published>2009-09-25T10:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T09:54:47.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AWAKEN</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Azi am deschis ochii si am privit lumea. Am vazut culori, am auzit muzica si am simtit iubire. Am acceptat-o asa. Si sunt fericita. Azi am lasat trecutul sa treaca.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-7178577825271263302?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/7178577825271263302/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=7178577825271263302' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/7178577825271263302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/7178577825271263302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/09/awake.html' title='AWAKEN'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-45409827736283399</id><published>2009-06-03T11:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T12:28:50.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SUBLIM</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sublim mi se pare sa te am atat de aproape incat sa-ti simt parfumul pielii. Sa-mi privesti chipul atent, ca si cum ai vrea sa nu-l uiti niciodata. Sa te joci in parul meu inainte sa adorm. Sa-ti aud soapta blanda. Sa iti simt trupul in jurul meu. Sa imi ceri sa te iau in brate. Sa adormi inaintea mea si sa pot sa-ti privesc chipul in voie. Sa te aud cum respiri usor, in timp ce eu ma joc in parul tau acum. Sa adorm langa tine si sa te visez. Sa te trezesti peste noapte doar ca sa ma iei de mana. Sa deschid ochii, in zori, si sa-ti intalnesc privirea. Sa-mi zambesti. Sa te vad fericit...langa mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sublim mi se pare sa simt ca ma iubesti si sa stiu ca este pentru totdeauna.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-45409827736283399?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/45409827736283399/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=45409827736283399' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/45409827736283399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/45409827736283399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/06/sublim.html' title='SUBLIM'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-3699866182443778182</id><published>2009-06-03T10:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T07:20:20.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GANDURI...SPRE TINE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mi-e dor, uneori, sa nu ai masina. Sa ma conduci pe jos acasa. Sa ne oprim in fata portii si sa uitam de timp. Sa fie doar noaptea-n jurul nostru, si luna, si parfumul verii. Iar noi sa vorbim liber despre tot si despre toate...despre nimic. Sa-mi las capul, usor, pe pieptul tau. Sa-ti aud bataile inimii. Sa ma pierd in imbratisarea ta si sa uit. Sa nu mai conteze altceva...doar noi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-as dori sa stam imbratisati in ploaie. Sa-mi mangai chipul ud si picaturi reci sa se intrepatrunda in sarutul nostru. Sa-mi spui sa intru in casa, dar sa nu te induri sa iti desfaci bratele din jurul meu. Sa fim uzi pana la piele, dar sa nu simtim decat focul pasiunii ce arde in noi. Sa radem de momentul nostru de nebunie. Sa se opreasca timpul si clipa aceasta sa fie eterna.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-3699866182443778182?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/3699866182443778182/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=3699866182443778182' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/3699866182443778182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/3699866182443778182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/06/gandurispre-tine.html' title='GANDURI...SPRE TINE'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-471007853119792914</id><published>2009-06-01T04:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T04:54:57.837-07:00</updated><title type='text'>COPIII DIN NOI</title><content type='html'>Copilul din mine vrea:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa evadeze, sa alerge liber spre nesfarsit&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa tina piept vietii razand&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa planga in hohote la fiecare mica zgarietura&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa fie strans in brate cand are un cosmar&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;ca fiecare realizare a lui sa tina lumea in loc&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa creada in basme si in Mos Craciun&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa fie inconjurat de maimutoi de plus&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa creada ca personajele din desene animate sunt reale&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;ca lumea din jurul lui sa fie doar o joaca&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa fuga de responsabilitati&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa nu tina cont de reguli&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa faca doar ce-i place&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa fie vesel mereu&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa se tina de sotii&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa viseze&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa spuna ce gandeste&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa fie luat in serios&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa nu-si piarda inocenta&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa iubeasca neconditionat&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa traiasca vesnic&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sa descopere copilul din tine&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-471007853119792914?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/471007853119792914/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=471007853119792914' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/471007853119792914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/471007853119792914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/06/copiii-din-noi.html' title='COPIII DIN NOI'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-2516671799157377200</id><published>2009-05-16T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T13:39:47.844-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nr. 21...V</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nu inteleg. Nu vreau sa inteleg. Este prea mult, prea complicat. De ce eu si de ce Adrian? Aflu, apoi, si raspunsul.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;In noaptea in care cei doi au murit, eu si cu Adrian ne-am nascut. De fapt, ei au renascut prin noi, pentru a-si implini iubirea. Dar...destinul este acelasi. Si, daca nu este impiedicat, si finalul va fi acelasi. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Acum stiu ca fata care seamana izbitor cu mine si care poarta acelasi nume, Isadora, sunt eu. Si Adrian este...iubitul ei. Inelul reprezinta un avertisment. Cele 21 de diamante simbolizeaza zilele care ne-au mai ramas pana cand trecutul se va repeta. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bunica lui Adrian are lacrimi in ochi. Imi spune ca a stiut dintotdeauna ce avea sa se intample cu nepotul ei. Cand Adrian i-a cerut inelul, deoarece a intalnit fata pentru care e gata sa faca un angajament al iubirii, a inteles ca m-a gasit si ca soarta este pe cale sa se implineasca. Doar eu trebuia sa port inelul cu 21 de diamante. Atunci, i-a dat de inteles lui Adrian ca iubirea noastra este in pericol, dar nu i-a dezvaluit adevarul. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;In clipa aceasta, realizez de ce a fost el atat de tulburat in seara in care mi-a daruit inelul. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;De acum, tot ce putem face este sa nu ne dezlipim unul de altul si sa asteptam. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mi-aduc aminte ca, in seara aceasta, ai mei trebuie sa plece in concediu si ca, o saptamana, voi fi singura acasa. Ii propun lui Adrian sa se mute la mine, stiind ca insisi parintii mei imi sugerasera acest lucru, cu o zi in urma. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dupa doua zile in care am stat nedespartiti, un singur diamant mai straluceste. Este tarziu in noapte si il privesc pe Adrian cum doarme langa mine. Ma uit atent la chipul lui si incerc sa ii retin fiecare trasatura. Nu stiu ce se va intampla cu noi. Dar, indiferent unde vom fi si sub ce forma, vreau sa am cu mine imaginea lui.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ma trezeste soarele, care patrunde puternic in camera. Trebuie sa fie destul de tarziu. Intind mana spre Adrian, dar nu este la locul lui. In schimb, gasesc pe perna un bilet. Imi scrie ca s-a dus la bunica lui, pentru ca si-a amintit cuvintele ei: "daca nu este impiedicat si finalul va fi acelasi". In continuare, scrie sa-l astept in casa, pentru ca nu intarzie mult. Sa mai existe, oare, vreo speranta? Ma uit la inel. Toate diamantele sunt negre. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Este aproape pranzul si el nu a venit. Se intampla ceva. Stia ca nu trebuie sa ne despartim si totusi a plecat. Iar eu nu pot merge sa-l caut. Daca intre timp se intoarce si nu ma gaseste?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pe masura ce orele trec devin tot mai nelinistita. Privesc din cand in cand pe fereastra, spre lac. Soarele apune si ii da acestuia un aer sinistru, paradoxal cu imaginea de basm de altadata. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Trebuie sa se intample ceva si el nu este langa mine. Intr-un tarziu inteleg ca asa a fost scris: sa infrunt totul singura. Simt ca innebunesc. Stau inchisa in casa, asteptand. Asteptand ce? Sa mor? Poate. Adrian mai traieste? Poate.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Incepe ploaia si vantul sufla puternic. Ceasul indica miezul noptii. Arunc o privire spre fereastra. Isadora este jos si ma striga. De fapt isi striga numele. Dar...de fapt sunt eu. Totul este haotic. Ametesc. Ca hipnotizata, cobor scarile si ies afara. Ma uit dupa ea, dar in zadar. Ploaia este prea puternica. Cand fulgera, o zaresc indreptandu-se spre lac. De data aceasta il striga pe Adrian. Alerg intr-acolo. Picaturile mari de ploaie se amesteca cu lacrimile mele, iar vantul imi incetineste fuga. Cu greu, ajung la lac. Aici nu este nimeni. Ma apropii de mal si, deodata, ii vad pe iubitul si pe tatal Isadorei, certandu-se. Cel din urma are in mana o piatra ascutita. Incep sa tip, dar degeaba. Nu ma aud. De parca totul s-ar intampla in alt timp. Privesc inghetata la cei doi. Isadora apare langa mine si imi spune sa-mi scot inelul. Este inelul timpului si doar cu el acesta poate fi oprit inainte ca iubitul ei sa moara. Nu vrea sa iasa. Apoi il zaresc pe Adrian alergand spre mine. Ajunge in dreptul meu si ii spune Isadorei ca ea este cea care poate sa-mi scoata inelul, caci tot ea a fost cea care mi l-a pus prima data pe deget. Imi zice, apoi, ca bunica lui a facut timpurile sa se intalneasca si ca i-a aratat lui cum trebuie sa procedeze mai departe. Dar totul depinde de inel. Cu gesturi disperate, Isadora reuseste sa mi-l scoata de pe deget si mi-l pune in palma. Sfatuita de Adrian, il arunc in lac exact in momentul in care tatal Isadorei urma sa-l loveasca pe iubitul ei. Ploaia se opreste, iar din lac izvoraste o lumina puternica. Cateva clipe mai tarziu, incepe sa se risipeasca. Treptat, dispare de tot, precum ceata, lasand lacul sub dezmierdarea blanda a razelor de soare. Este ziua. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nu stiu ce s-a intamplat. Stiu doar ca sunt cu Adrian la locul nostru obisnuit, de pe malul lacului. Pe deget am inelul cu cele 21 de diamante, care stralucesc mai frumos ca niciodata. Nu mai este un inel al timpului. Cumva stiu asta. Este doar un angajament al iubirii noastre. Imbratisati, ne privim chipurile oglindite in apa. Acestea zambesc fericite, apoi, se pierd in adancuri.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;SFARSIT&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-2516671799157377200?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/2516671799157377200/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=2516671799157377200' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/2516671799157377200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/2516671799157377200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/05/nr-21v.html' title='Nr. 21...V'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-7127126680776709056</id><published>2009-05-16T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T05:30:11.737-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NR. 21...IV</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A doua zi ma trezesc hotarata sa-l caut pe Adrian si sa-i povestesc tot. Ma uit la inel si constat ca unul dintre diamante s-a innegrit. Incerc sa-l sterg, dar in zadar. Trec peste asta si il sun pe Adrian. Zece minute mai tarziu, ajunge la mine. Il imbratisez si incep sa plang. Ma linistesc treptat si ii povestesc tot, timp in care ma asculta uimit. Incercam, apoi, sa gasim solutii sau explicatii logice. De parca exista vreo logica in toate astea. In final, decidem sa petrecem cat mai mult timp impreuna, ca sa nu mai trec singura prin ceva asemanator.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Trec cateva zile fara evenimente deosebite, cu Adrian ma intalnesc mereu la lac. Un singur lucru mi se pare straniu. In fiecare zi mi se innegreste cate un diamant. Trei dintre ele mai sunt acum albe. Nici eu, nici Adrian nu intelegem ce se intampla cu inelul. Intrucat acesta i-a apartinut, bunica lui este singura care ne poate oferi o explicatie. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pot vedea socul de pe fata bunicii, in clipa in care ma zareste. Arata de parca ar fi vazut o fantasma. Se convinge ca sunt reala si incepe sa-mi povesteasca. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;La Nr. 21 s-au intamplat multe lucruri ciudate, cu mult inainte ca eu sa ma mut acolo. Bineinteles, eu habar n-aveam. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cu 21 de ani in urma, familia care a locuit acolo a avut o fata de seama cu mine. Aceasta s-a indragostit nebuneste de un baiat din zona, dar pe care parintii ei nu l-au acceptat datorita unei vechi dispute intre familii. Din aceasta cauza, ea s-a intalnit cu el in secret, in fiecare noapte, la lac. Intr-una din nopti, a fost urmarita de tatal ei. Cand a ajuns la lac, nu si-a gasit iubitul acolo si a inceput sa-l strige. Pentru ca nu a primit niciun raspuns, a inaintat. L-a zarit, intr-un final, zacand pe malul lacului, fara suflare. Pamantul de sub el era inrosit de sange. Socul si durerea, pe care fata le-a simtit in momentul acela, au determinat-o sa arunce in lac trupul neinsufletit al iubitului si sa se arunce, apoi, si ea. S-a zvonit ca s-au sinucis, pentru ca nu puteau fi impreuna. Pentru cei mai multi, insa, faptul ca tatal ei i-ar fi ucis pe amandoi a fost o certitudine. Dar niciodata nu s-a putut dovedi ceva in acest sens. La scurt timp dupa incident, parintii fetei au plecat din Creepy si nimeni nu a mai stiut nimic de ei. De atunci, casa de la Nr. 21 nu a mai fost locuita. De vina pentru asta, era lacul, care se credea a fi bantuit de sufletele celor doi. Pana cand am venit noi.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Un amalgam de sentimente noi se aduna in sufletul meu: soc, teama, compasiune, incertitudine. Abia acum inteleg comportamentul tuturor. Si inca mai am de aflat un lucru important. Cel mai important. Adrian ma strange in brate, iar bunica lui continua terifianta poveste.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fata nu ma viziteaza intamplator, nu intamplator o vad si nu intamplator striga acelasi nume: Adrian. Un fior imi strabate corpul. Mainile-mi sunt reci si incep sa tremur usor. Adrian ma strange si mai tare in brate. Bunica lui ma ia de mana si-mi spune ca fata aceea...sunt eu. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;VA URMA&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-7127126680776709056?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/7127126680776709056/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=7127126680776709056' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/7127126680776709056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/7127126680776709056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/05/nr-21iv.html' title='NR. 21...IV'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-8589839698528603387</id><published>2009-05-16T05:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T07:38:13.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NR. 21...III</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sunt foarte fericita. De ce? Nu stiu. Poate pentru ca mi-am facut un prim prieten aici si nu voi mai fi atat de singura.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Au trecut cateva zile si deja incep sa ma acomodez cu lumea si cu locurile. Ai mei si-au facut cativa prieteni printre vecini, desi comportamentul acestora este straniu, sunt prea precauti si uneori am senzatia ca ne ascund ceva. Singurul al carui comportament mi se pare normal este Adrian si asta pentru ca este o persoana foarte deschisa si nu mi-a lasat niciodata impresia ca as fi o intrusa, asa cum au facut-o toti ceilalti locuitori din Creepy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Este seara. Stau, ca de obicei, la lac si privesc apusul. Cerul are nuante de roz si violet, iar soarele abia se mai zareste. Adrian se aseaza pe iarba, langa mine si, fara niciun fel de introducere, imi spune ca ma iubeste si ca ii este frica sa nu se intample ceva care sa ne desparta. Acum, si atitudinea lui mi se pare ciudata. Ce stie el si eu nu? Il privesc in ochi si imi dau seama cat este de ravasit. Il asigur ca nimic nu ne va putea desparti, apoi ma priveste fix. Scoate din buzunar o cutiuta de culoarea lemnului si o deschide. Un inel de aur, cu doua randuri de diamante micute, pe cel de-al treilea aflandu-se unul singur, putin mai mare decat restul, sclipeste in ultimile raze de soare. Il ia si mi-l pune pe deget. Acum eu sunt cea ravasita. Inima imi bate puternic si aproape ca uit sa respir. Ma strange in brate si imi revin. Este cea mai fericita seara a mea de cand ma aflu in Creepy. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Noaptea tarziu, intru in casa cantand sub privirile nedumerite alor mei. Ma duc la mine in camera si ma trantesc pe pat. Ma gandesc la el. Imi dau seama ca sunt indragostita pentru prima oara in viata mea si lucrul acesta mi se pare minunat. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Invart absenta inelul pe deget. Din lipsa de ocupatie, ma apuc sa numar diamantele: 21. Ma trece un fior, apoi imi amintesc prima seara petrecuta in camera mea. Este acelasi inel. Cateva secunde mi se deruleaza toata intamplarea in minte. Nu inteleg ce inseamna toate aceste coincidente. Incerc sa scot inelul, dar nu iese. Apoi aud, din nou, vocea aceea afara. Deschid fereastra. Fata in rochie alba se indreapta spre lac, strigand acelasi nume, pe care nu pot sa-l descifrez. O urmaresc cu privirea, pana cand se pierde in intuneric. Sunt speriata. Ceva se intampla. Prea multe coincidente, prea mult lucruri stranii. Lui Adrian nu i-am spus pana acum despre aparitia misterioasa din prima mea noapte aici. Am considerat ca a fost doar un cosmar. Acum stiu ca m-am inselat. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;VA URMA&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-8589839698528603387?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/8589839698528603387/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=8589839698528603387' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/8589839698528603387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/8589839698528603387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/05/nr-21iii.html' title='NR. 21...III'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-421901028409747490</id><published>2009-05-11T08:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T05:26:47.415-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NR. 21...II</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ma trezesc devreme. Soarele este de mult pe cer, iar razele lui se strecoara, prin perdea, in camera. Ma uit la mana. Semnul este inca acolo. Nu dau importanta. Imi servesc micul dejun alaturi de ai mei, apoi ies in curte. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Imi place viata la tara chiar foarte mult. De fapt tuturor ne place, motiv pentru care am renuntat la viata agitata a marelui oras. Creepy poarta, in mod oficial, denumirea de oras, dar este localizat intr-o zona de deal mai retrasa, ceea ce ii ofera liniste, trafic redus si aer curat. Nu exista blocuri, doar case cu un etaj sau doua, curte si garaj. Asa este si a noastra. Doar leaganul cu bancuta, de pe terasa din fata, o deosebeste de celelalte. Curtea din spate este imensa. Din usa bucatariei, unde ma aflu, pot zari locul rezervat pentru gratar, gradinita cu flori si livada. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Trec printre pomi si, la capatul potecii ce face legatura intre curte si livada, descopar lacul. Spun descopar, pentru ca nu am aflat de existenta lui pana acum. Este o priveliste de basm. Razele soarelui, reflectate in lacul imprejmuit de pomi si verdeata, creeaza margaritare la atingerea apei, trilul pasarelelor se aude ca un ecou, iar aerul proaspat imi invadeaza simturile. Nu stiu de cat timp stau pe iarba moale, de un ceas, poate chiar de doua...In cele din urma plec, hotarata sa revin.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Desi nu este mare, Creepy are de toate. Magazine moderne, scoala, spital si chiar si o fabrica de cherestea. Ies la plimbare. In centru, observ ca lumea se uita ciudat la mine. Probabil pentru ca sunt noua. Intru intr-un magazin, pentru a arunca o privire. Vanzatoarea, o femeie cam de 35 de ani, foarte draguta, imi spune ca nu m-a mai vazut pe aici si ma intreaba daca sunt nou-venita. Ii spun ca m-am mutat de curand la Nr. 21. Nu mai zice nimic, in schimb ma priveste inspaimantata. Apoi imi intoarce spatele, prefacandu-se ca aranjeaza ceva pe raft. Nu imi bat capul prea mult cu reactia ei si plec. Ajung in parc si ma asez pe o banca. In spatele meu, cateva persoane incep sa vorbeasca in soapta. Este evident ca eu sunt subiectul discutiei. Ma intriga la culme acest lucru, dar nu las sa se vada. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deodata, vad ca se apropie un tanar si se aseaza langa mine. Ma uit dispretuitor la el, dar ochii lui verzi imi imprastie, pentru cateva secunde, gandurile. Ma adun si il intreb daca a venit special ca sa ma studieze de aproape, pentru ca se pare ca sunt o prezenta neobisnuita pentru lumea acestui oras. Zambeste si imi spune ca singurul lucru neobisnuit este frumusetea mea. Incercarea lui de a ma face sa ignor atitudinea celor din jur ma face sa zambesc, la randul meu. Ajungem sa vorbim...sa vorbim mult si despre multe. Aflu ca il cheama Adrian si ca este vecin cu mine. Locuieste cu bunica lui, care este o persoana cam ciudata, prea misterioasa uneori. Conversatia noastra aluneca ,apoi, pe alte culmi. Se insereaza si ma conduce acasa, dar ramane sa ne mai intalnim. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;VA URMA&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-421901028409747490?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/421901028409747490/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=421901028409747490' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/421901028409747490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/421901028409747490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html' title='NR. 21...II'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-2146692189150548433</id><published>2009-04-30T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T11:44:55.248-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NUMARUL 21...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;...este un numar care de 5 ani, 8 luni si 9 zile ma urmareste peste tot;&lt;br /&gt;...este un numar care ma face fericita;&lt;br /&gt;...este un numar care da titlul unei povesti pe care am scris-o in clasa a X-a:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Si iata-ma ajunsa in micul oras ce urmeaza sa-mi fie gazda mult timp de acum inainte. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Este o dupa-amiaza calda de vara. Despachetez bagajele, apoi imi fac de lucru decorand noua mea camera. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Observ ca s-a inserat deja cand, in cele din urma, termin treaba. Ostenita, dau drumul la muzica, ma asez pe canapea si inchid ochii.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Probabil ca am adormit, caci ma trezeste, brusc, zgomotul unei ferestre trantite de vant. A inceput sa ploua. Ma duc sa o inchid si fulgera. Speriata dau sa fac un pas in spate, dar ma intorc imediat. Muzica s-a oprit. Ciudat. Nu s-a terminat inca melodia. Ma indrept spre combina. Vreau sa schimb CD-ul, dar se produce un scurt-circuit si se intrerupe curentul. Raman nemiscata cateva clipe. Trupul imi tremura, iar picaturi reci de transpiratie mi se preling pe frunte. Dintr-o data porneste combina, desi curentul nu a venit. Nu este nimic din ce am pe CD. Melodia este sinistra, iar pe fundal se aude un glas de fata care striga ceva...sau pe cineva. Un nume...cineva rosteste un nume cu o voce din ce in ce mai ingrozita. Nu pot sa-l deslusesc. Se aude tot mai tare, apoi...un tipat. Fereastra se deschide iar si in lumina fulgerului zaresc o fata. Rochia ei alba flutura in bataia vantului, iar parul negru si lung ii incadreaza fata palida. Ma priveste cu ochi mari, verzi si plini de lacrimi, in timp ce buzele ei rostesc acelasi nume. In clipa urmatoare se apropie de mine, care stau incremenita, ma ia de mana si imi pune un inel in palma. O secunda mai tarziu il am pe deget. Apoi imi sopteste: Ajuta-ma! Imi este frica...inchid ochii si tip. Nu stiu cat timp trece. Ii deschid. Langa mine, parintii mei. Au crezut ca am un cosmar si au venit sa ma trezeasca. Ma ridic si privesc nedumerita in jur. Lumina este aprinsa, muzica oprita, iar eu ma aflu pe canapea. Fereastra este inchisa si, culmea, nu este nicio urma ca ar fi plouat. Ma uit la ceas si privirea mi se fixeaza, cateva secunde, pe acesta. Este cu cinci minute trecut de miezul noptii. Ma uit apoi la ai mei, care parca asteapta sa le spun ceva. Le confirm banuielile despre cosmar, dar adaug ca nu trebuie sa-si faca griji. Sunt bine acum. Bineinteles ca nici eu nu cred ce spun. Sunt mai moarta de spaima ca niciodata si ma aflu inca sub efectul a ceea ce s-a intamplat...daca s-a intamplat. Mai linistiti acum, imi ureaza "noapte buna" si pleaca. Imi fac patul si ma pregatesc pentru un somn lung. Imi desprind, mai intai, parul si intind mana stanga dupa pieptan. Observ inmarmurita ca, pe degetul pe care EA mi-a pus inelul, am ceva asemanator cu o arsura. Ma calmez si imi spun ca am visat eu tot si ca nu trebuie sa devin paranoica. Semnul acela l-as fi putut avea de oriunde. Ma bag in pat si adorm, gandindu-ma ca a doua zi voi face o plimbare prin oras.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;VA URMA&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-2146692189150548433?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/2146692189150548433/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=2146692189150548433' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/2146692189150548433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/2146692189150548433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/04/numarul-21.html' title='NUMARUL 21...'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-4644891404589177441</id><published>2009-04-29T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T11:49:36.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NUFAR ALB</title><content type='html'>Din lacul trist al amintirilor&lt;br /&gt;Un nufar alb a rasarit,&lt;br /&gt;Parfumul dulce al petalelor&lt;br /&gt;Mi-a spus ca, nu demult, eu l-am iubit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma plimbam, copila visatoare,&lt;br /&gt;Pe malul lacului ascuns de salcii&lt;br /&gt;Cand am zarit in calea mea o floare&lt;br /&gt;Si-am inceput un joc timid, ca de copii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Era atat mister in jur&lt;br /&gt;Si-n jocul nostru mut&lt;br /&gt;Cladeam ceva curat si pur,&lt;br /&gt;Dar o petala a cazut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Din ochii-mi tristi de fata&lt;br /&gt;Se prelingeau margaritare&lt;br /&gt;Pentru o dragoste nevinovata&lt;br /&gt;Ce-nfloreste, apoi moare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De la mal privesc cu nostalgie acum&lt;br /&gt;La floarea nufarului alb,&lt;br /&gt;Dar am in fata mea alt drum,&lt;br /&gt;Departe de acest lac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chiar daca m-am schimbat si eu&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi am plecat,&lt;br /&gt;In suflet voi pastra mereu&lt;br /&gt;Un vesnic nufar alb.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-4644891404589177441?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/4644891404589177441/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=4644891404589177441' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/4644891404589177441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/4644891404589177441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/04/nufar-alb.html' title='NUFAR ALB'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-93382563671960236</id><published>2009-04-29T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T11:42:41.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PEDEAPSA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Picaturi fierbinti cad pe trupu-mi rece&lt;br /&gt;Si singura-ntr-un parc pustiu&lt;br /&gt;Te-as astepta chiar o eternitate de ar trece,&lt;br /&gt;Dar poate ca e prea tarziu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Printre picaturi ca te zaresc imi pare&lt;br /&gt;Si-a ta chemare c-o ascult,&lt;br /&gt;Dar nu esti tu, ci o himera trecatoare&lt;br /&gt;A unei seri pierdute de demult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fiorul unei sperante moarte c-ai sa vii&lt;br /&gt;Al meu suflet il strapunge-ncet, incet&lt;br /&gt;Si mai raman un ceas sau doua, poate-o zi&lt;br /&gt;In asta ploaie arzanda, pe tine sa te astept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar asta-i rasplata crunta a unor temeri:&lt;br /&gt;Pentru nimic sa trec prin foc doar eu,&lt;br /&gt;Caci tu te-ai ars, dar nu de azi...de ieri&lt;br /&gt;Si-ai presarat cenusa-n drumul meu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-93382563671960236?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/93382563671960236/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=93382563671960236' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/93382563671960236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/93382563671960236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/04/pedeapsa.html' title='PEDEAPSA'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-4577138557443812868</id><published>2009-04-29T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T04:14:08.765-07:00</updated><title type='text'>IUBIRE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ma-nalt, plutesc printre nori,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Eu, muritoare fara nume, ating soarele.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ochii-mi nu stiu decat sa sclipeasca,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Buzele-mi sa rada, gandu-mi sa zboare,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Totul in mine e viata...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pana cand iar de moarte-i lovita.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Un soare-nghetat, pe gheata-i alunec, printre nori, inapoi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Incerc sa ma agat, dar e abur, desigur!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ochii-i inchid, sclipirea e lacrima...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Buzele-mi sunt inclestate, rasul e suspin...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In al lui zbor spre soare gandul si-a frant aripile, s-a inecat in mare.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ajunsa din nou pe pamant, in marea cea neagra e rece si vant...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Aud un sunet, ecoul unei inimi batand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Nu e a mea, e moarta de mult...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Vad...o raza de soare, e soarele pe pamant!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-4577138557443812868?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/4577138557443812868/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=4577138557443812868' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/4577138557443812868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/4577138557443812868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/04/iubire.html' title='IUBIRE'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-1733669276030180927</id><published>2009-04-29T11:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T11:24:45.635-07:00</updated><title type='text'>METAMORFOZARE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sunt singura, in negrul camerei mele ascunsa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E noapte. Un caine mai latra, un greier mai canta.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Am lampa aprinsa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Umbre vesele joaca un joc copilaresc &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pe peretii ingaduitori.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Se pierd in imbratisari, se intrepatrund in sarut...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Devin una si aceeasi umbra,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O panza de lumina peste negrul cel singuratic...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;La masa mea incerc sa scriu,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sa fac pe poetul cel singur si trist.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ma joc cu versuri, cuvinte la intamplare,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Dar ce conteaza? Eu sunt poet!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Un copil ce a incetat copil sa mai fie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Acum e poet, printre randuri sunt gandurile lui,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Dar nimeni nu stie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E greu sa leg cuvintele, nu e liniste-n jur.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ei stau alaturi, pierduti intr-ale lor...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Prea saturati de viata, prea traiti,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Prea plictisiti se uita la televizor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Au un aer greu, de-o viata chinuita,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Prea mari poveri, prea mari dureri&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Atarna pe-ai lor umeri.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Nu vad lumea din jur, nu aud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sunt prinsi in jocul lor,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Vorbesc de viata lor, se gandesc la ei si uita...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Undeva, acolo unde e intuneric,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Cineva incepe sa deschida ochii, sa vada viata, sa descopere lumea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Copilul lor, ce a incetat copil sa mai fie, si-a inceput drumul...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Si fiecare clipa trecuta nu mai vine inapoi&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Si fiecare clipa pierduta naste regrete,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Dar nimeni nu stie...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Prea istoviti se retrag, caci maine o iau de la capat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Inconjurata de liniste acum&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Observ cu mirare:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Nu pot sa scriu!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Versuri vagi, ganduri fugare, fraze fara inteles&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Se imbulzesc, dar fara de succes, sa iasa la lumina,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Caci un porumbel in colivie &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Se zbate sa iasa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Si jocul copilaresc, de indragostiti al umbrelor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E privit cu nostalgie acum&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;De un ochi de copil, ce a incetat copil sa mai fie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;S-a mai nascut un poet,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Dar nimeni nu stie...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-1733669276030180927?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/1733669276030180927/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=1733669276030180927' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/1733669276030180927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/1733669276030180927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/04/metamorfozare.html' title='METAMORFOZARE'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-5539658034438979062</id><published>2009-04-22T02:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T04:07:25.795-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AMINTIRI DIN CLASA A VIII-A...</title><content type='html'>...sau un alt fel de motivatie pentru examenul de capacitate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rain&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Days and days...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Time is passing by.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;All these nights when I'm staring at the window and cry...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I just wish that one day you'll be mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;But I can't do anything!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Just to stay and to wait.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I feel like I'm weasting time&lt;br /&gt;I want to do something or just to try.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Cause I'm confuze.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I can't understand this world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I need your advice,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I need to hear your rimes,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;But is so sad&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Cause my walkman is dead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The raindrops are hitting the window.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In every beat I find you.&lt;br /&gt;I wish this rain can wash my soul,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;To forget about this whole world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The past can't enter in my view,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The present is me and my future is you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;But I have to learn to go on.&lt;br /&gt;I have to fight for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And this fight means to learn.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Cause time is passing by&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And I don't wanna cry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So, for now on...GOODBYE!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Da. Pe atunci eram fan Eminem si vroiam sa-l intalnesc. Atat de mult imi doream lucrul acesta, incat detestam faptul ca eram abia in clasa a VIII-a si nu puteam face mare lucru sa-mi indeplinesc visul. Credeam, la vremea aceea, ca, daca as fi fost cu 10 ani mai mare, as fi mutat si muntii din loc numai ca sa-mi ating scopul. Nici prin cap nu-mi trecea atunci ca nu puteam avea incredere in mine peste 10 ani.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-5539658034438979062?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/5539658034438979062/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=5539658034438979062' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/5539658034438979062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/5539658034438979062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/04/amintiri-din-clasa-viii.html' title='AMINTIRI DIN CLASA A VIII-A...'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-5755196960593173380</id><published>2009-04-21T12:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T02:34:37.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WAKE ME UP...INSIDE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Vine o vreme cand lucrurile in viata ta prind contur, cand vezi soarele dupa multe nopti grele, cand iti gasesti linistea, cand iti gasesti echilibrul...cand golurile se umplu si ranile se vindeca. Si toti cei din jur te fac fericit. Si descoperi apoi ca viata ta e goala, lipsita de sens, ca nu ai nicio realizare, niciun merit, ca nimic nu iti place indeajuns ca sa te motiveze, ca traiesti intr-o lume pe care o respingi, ca nu ai vointa sa schimbi ceva, ca te irosesti, ca te anulezi. Iti conturezi in minte lumea ta, ambitii, dorinte, vise...dar nu le dai voie sa prinda viata. De ce? Esti intr-o continua relaxare. O prelungita odihna dupa...o indelungata cursa cu obstacole? Nu. Te simti mai degraba prins in cusca. Ai vrea sa evadezi, dar te impiedica propriul trup. Si ramai in continuare trist. Trist, pentru ca singurul care te poate face cu adevarat fericit doarme...inauntrul tau.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-5755196960593173380?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/5755196960593173380/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=5755196960593173380' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/5755196960593173380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/5755196960593173380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/04/wake-me-upinside.html' title='WAKE ME UP...INSIDE'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-7567843638479135708</id><published>2009-02-18T02:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T04:41:23.565-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ROTUND PERFECT</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sunt rece. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ma iei de mana. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Esti cald. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Aproape ca arzi. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Dar e bine. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Nu mai sunt rece. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Vorbim. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Despre ce-ti place tie. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Despre ce-mi place mie. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ma strangi in brate. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Te apropii. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ma saruti. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Esti cu mine. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Te simt. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ma privesti. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Zambesti. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Imi dai suvita din ochi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Bland.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Imi mangai fata. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ma apropii.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Te sarut.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tremur.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pielea ta...e fina.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tremuri.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Imi soptesti.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Esti fericit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sunt vinovata.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-7567843638479135708?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/7567843638479135708/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=7567843638479135708' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/7567843638479135708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/7567843638479135708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/02/rotund-perfect.html' title='ROTUND PERFECT'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-8301700227046662777</id><published>2009-02-10T08:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T02:22:56.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NEGRU SI ROZ</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ROZ&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Optimista, visatoare, indragostita, naiva, copilaroasa, neindemanatica, imatura, timida, sensibila si fara aparare...cam asa ma stiu cei mai multi. Imi plac florile, poeziile, imi place sa scriu, cred in destin si in basme, imi fug ochii dupa chestii dragute, colorate si pufoase, prefer desenele animate in locul filmelor de groaza, plang la filmele romantice, ador Twilight si Sailor Moon, culoarea mea preferata e roz. Am incredere in oameni si cred ca in fiecare exista si o latura frumoasa. Cred ca inca mai sunt oameni care fac lucrurile din pasiune si nu pentru bani. Iubesc cainii...si pisicile, dar mai putin. Ador maimutoii de plus si papusile Barbie. Cred in suflete pereche si in dragoste mai presus de orice. Ma atasez de locuri, de lucruri si de oamenii din viata mea. Mi-e frica de schimbari si de necunoscut. Ma inspaimanta gandul de a pierde pe cineva drag. Imi plac plimbarile in aer liber, imi place natura, imi plac melodii precum "Please forgive me" a lui Bryan Adams, "Pasion" a Sarei Brightman sau "Gomenasai" a fetelor de la TATU. Ma simt bine atunci cand dau bani batranilor care cersesc si uneori si cand ofer persoanelor in varsta locul in autobuz. Vorbesc foarte mult si nu intotdeauna bine (si nu ma refer d.p.d.v. gramatical), imi place sa rad si sa glumesc, imi place sa am prieteni si ma consider sociabila pana intr-un anumit punct.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;NEGRU&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pe de alta parte (mai putin cunoscuta), sunt realista, nu-mi plac oamenii falsi si aroganti care se cred superiori, am invatat ca putini sunt cei care imi merita increderea. Nu dau bani cu imprumut. Nu imi plac manelele si nici muzica house. In schimb, ascult Eminem si Parazitii. Nu fumez si nu-mi plac cluburile. Nu astept de la ziua de maine mai mult decat imi poate da. Nu imi plac lucrurile scumpe si inutile. Nu vreau sa depind de nimeni si totusi se intampla. Uneori viata mi se pare de kkt si injur ori de cate ori am ocazia. Nu ma las doborata usor, sunt mai puternica decat las sa se vada. Nu-mi place politica si nici sa votez. Tratez cu indiferenta tot ceea ce pe altii i-ar scoate din sarite. Imi place viata de cartier. Nu ma incanta barbatii in costum, pantofi si tot timpul barbieriti sau gen soarece de biblioteca. Barbatul ideal poarta sapca, adidasi si tricouri largi, e inteligent si educat in scoala vietii. Imi plac tatuajele si imi doresc unul. Imi plac pandativele ciudate, imi plac dragonii, imi place noaptea, imi plac accesoriile negre. Nu am prejudecati si ii urasc pe cei care ma judeca. In schimb, accept criticile. Uneori sunt nepoliticoasa si detest sa dau socoteala pentru ceea ce fac. Am prieteni putini, dar ii am de-o viata. Urasc sa fiu contrazisa cand am dreptate. Sunt momente cand nu vad nimic frumos in jurul meu, momente cand plang, momente cand nu-mi pasa de nimic si de nimeni, momente cand imi detest cealalta latura.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-8301700227046662777?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/8301700227046662777/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=8301700227046662777' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/8301700227046662777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/8301700227046662777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/02/negru-si-roz.html' title='NEGRU SI ROZ'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-3383395150949746369</id><published>2009-02-10T04:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T04:46:26.897-08:00</updated><title type='text'>O GURA DE AER</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ei bine...iata-ma! Scriu din nou. Sau incerc. A trecut ceva timp de cand nu am mai facut-o...si nu...nu a fost lipsa de idei. Mai repede lipsa de organizare a tot ce imi trece prin cap, amorteala, indiferenta, comoditate, plafonare...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Dar azi m-am trezit. Era soare afara, am deschis fereastra si am luat o gura de aer. Pentru prima data dupa mult timp am simtit nevoia sa traiesc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hotarasem sa nu mai revin la trecut, dar imi dau seama ca mai sunt inca atatea lucruri pe care as putea sa le invat din el.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Asadar, dimineata asta m-a facut sa-mi fie dor de copilaria si o parte din adolescenta traite in cartier. Eram copii, dar plini de viata. In fiecare zi faceam ceva diferit, nu iroseam nicio secunda din timpul nostru. Ne strangeam toti in fata blocului si inventam tot felul de jocuri care de care mai ingenioase si mai complexe. Mi-e dor de verdele castanilor primavara, de mireasma din aer atunci cand ploua si ne adunam toti la scara blocului, de vesnica "indragosteala", de covorul de frunze multicolore care se asternea in fiecare toamna in parc, mi-e dor de bataile cu frunze, mi-e dor de Craciunul in care stateam cu Ade la mine in sufragerie si jucam Tetris, mi-e dor sa alerg si sa ma ascund, ca atunci cand jucam Parola, mi-e dor sa stau afara pana noaptea tarziu si sa ma joc "ascunsea". Mi-e dor de parfumul florilor de tei din serile tarzii de vara... Mi-e dor de siguranta si increderea pe care le simteam atunci. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;S-au schimbat locurile, s-au schimbat oamenii, m-am schimbat si eu, dar simt din nou aceeasi pofta de viata. M-am saturat sa vad cum trec zilele una dupa alta si nu fac nimic, m-am saturat de rutina, m-am saturat sa pierd timpul. M-am saturat sa fiu trista, sa-mi plang de mila. Nu e totul doar gri.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Vreau sa cred ca suntem pictori si ca noi hotaram ce culori combinam pentru a ne desavarsi tabloul.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-3383395150949746369?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/3383395150949746369/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=3383395150949746369' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/3383395150949746369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/3383395150949746369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2009/02/o-gura-de-aer.html' title='O GURA DE AER'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-3997184845294295072</id><published>2008-12-25T02:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T07:04:57.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TE UITA CUM NINGE DECEMBRE...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SZAtvGS4mAI/AAAAAAAAADY/XpYTO3d0t8I/s1600-h/felcris.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300787048581994498" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SZAtvGS4mAI/AAAAAAAAADY/XpYTO3d0t8I/s320/felcris.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Te uita cum ninge decembre..." recita Camy in timp ce Dan o acompania la chitara. Erau doar ei doi in fata unui decor de sarbatoare care prindea viata cu fiecare acord. Fetele care cantasera colindele in deschidere se retrasesera intr-un colt. Urmam eu si Luci cu momentul nostru romantic (Dialog de Iarna-G. Bacovia), Cretu' cu poezia lui, cei de la Info cu sceneta, si multi altii...Emotii, rasete, aplauze, cadouri...asa intampinam Craciunul in primii ani de liceu. Totul capata contur intr-o camaruta veche din liceu, numita Archaeus. Acolo ne strangeam cu totii si repetam in orele libere poeziile, scenetele, colindele, practic organizam intregul spectacol de sarbatori. Era distractiv si in acelasi timp serios. In momentele acelea eram uniti, desi nu eram toti din aceeasi clasa. Ne unea bucuria de a darui celorlalti cate putin din sufletele noastre. Intotdeauna spectacolul era reusit, profii incantati (unii mai mult, altii mai putin) si mereu sarbatoream intre noi reusita, amuzandu-ne pe seama micilor scapari in interpretare. Au fost clipe frumoase pe care le-am putut trai datorita unei singure persoane: Profa' de Romana. Ea ne tinea pe toti laolalta, ea ne indruma, ea ne incuraja sa mergem mai departe cand ceilalti nu credeau in noi. Imi amintesc cu drag acele vremuri, atunci ma regaseam in ceea ce faceam. Ca si profa, cred ca am fost alesi sa le traim. Azi sunt prinsa in vartejul studentiei si am uneori senzatia ca mi-am pierdut undeva sufletul, pentru ca fac totul mecanic...am uitat sa ma mai bucur de lucrurile simple, am uitat cum e sa daruiesti, am uitat cum e sa ai emotii. Serbarea de la facultate mi-a trezit amintirea acelor vremuri din liceu, sunt si aici oameni care incearca sa faca lucruri frumoase pentru noi, sa ne apropie, dar lipseste ceva...lipsim noi. Dar si astazi este Craciunul si am invatat ca fericirea pe care o uram tuturor cu aceasta ocazie vine din bucuria pe care o daruim celor dragi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-3997184845294295072?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/3997184845294295072/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=3997184845294295072' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/3997184845294295072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/3997184845294295072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2008/12/te-uita-cum-ninge-decembre.html' title='TE UITA CUM NINGE DECEMBRE...'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SZAtvGS4mAI/AAAAAAAAADY/XpYTO3d0t8I/s72-c/felcris.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-4359600202406477741</id><published>2008-12-06T10:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T05:49:13.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DE ZIUA MEA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/STrkqsHQklI/AAAAAAAAACY/A6ynJ8gUQBw/s1600-h/lV0MiR772598-02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 144px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276781335465202258" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/STrkqsHQklI/AAAAAAAAACY/A6ynJ8gUQBw/s200/lV0MiR772598-02.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A fost ziua mea...oficial...am implinit 21 de ani. M-am trezit dimineata si dupa cum, sincer, ma asteptam (mama se ocupa in fiecare an de asta, anul asta si tata) in cizmele mele erau indesate o multime de portocale si dulciuri. Mereu diminetile astea ma fac sa-mi amintesc de bucuria pe care o simteam in copilarie. Asa am reusit, pentru putin timp, sa simt ca azi este sarbatoare. Apoi ai mei au plecat care pe unde au avut treaba, iar eu am ramas singura sa-mi fac de cap...adica sa ma uit la TV. Bineinteles, cum niciun post de televiziune nu stia ca azi a fost ziua mea, nu am gasit nimic care sa ma tina lipita de ecran. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pe parcursul diminetii, ganduri frumoase si obisnuitele urari mi-au luat cu asalt telefonul si messul (multumesc, astfel, inca o data celor care nu au uitat). Spre pranz m-am cuibarit in fotoliu si m-am uitat la cateva filme pana seara cand a venit mama. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Nimic special ati zice voi...nimic special as zice si eu. Nu mi-am dorit petrecere, nu mi-am dorit nici macar cadouri. Mi-am dorit un lucru simplu...dar eu de foarte putine ori am parte de lucruri simple. Asa ca nu am avut parte nici azi. Am primit in schimb altceva...Un prieten mi-a spus ca nu trebuie sa fiu deprimata pentru ceea ce nu a fost perfect azi. Ziua mea poate fi in fiecare zi in care mi se intampla lucruri frumoase, in care ma simt bine si in care sunt fericita. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ma pregatesc, asadar, sa vina ZIUA MEA. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-4359600202406477741?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/4359600202406477741/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=4359600202406477741' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/4359600202406477741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/4359600202406477741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2008/12/de-ziua-mea.html' title='DE ZIUA MEA'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/STrkqsHQklI/AAAAAAAAACY/A6ynJ8gUQBw/s72-c/lV0MiR772598-02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-8977970322115702972</id><published>2008-12-05T10:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T05:45:42.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LA FEL</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SZAmSJnmohI/AAAAAAAAADA/g95o2tstC8M/s1600-h/HyW0Ft9pd7uO.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 135px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300778854676603410" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SZAmSJnmohI/AAAAAAAAADA/g95o2tstC8M/s200/HyW0Ft9pd7uO.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;E ciudat...E noaptea in care cei mai multi dintre voi il asteapta voiosi pe Mos Nicolae. E prima noapte din decembrie care aduce cu ea magia sarbatorilor. Si mai ales, e noaptea de dinaintea zilei mele de nastere. Ar trebui sa fie altfel...nu? Dar e aceeasi noapte ca si cea de ieri si poate...ca si cea de maine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-8977970322115702972?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/8977970322115702972/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=8977970322115702972' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/8977970322115702972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/8977970322115702972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2008/12/la-fel.html' title='LA FEL'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SZAmSJnmohI/AAAAAAAAADA/g95o2tstC8M/s72-c/HyW0Ft9pd7uO.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-1465221410093125115</id><published>2008-12-04T05:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T05:45:09.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DE CE?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SZArW6j0zLI/AAAAAAAAADQ/HNvUUhY1B1U/s1600-h/avatars_Animals_104.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 128px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 128px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300784434091707570" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SZArW6j0zLI/AAAAAAAAADQ/HNvUUhY1B1U/s400/avatars_Animals_104.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; De ce fericirea noastra nu este si fericirea altora? De ce ideea noastra de bine nu corespunde cu ideea de bine a altora? De ce nu pot intelege si altii ceea ce intelegem noi? De ce unii au puterea sa ramana la fel, iar pe altii ii schimba viata atat de mult? De ce greselile unora trebuie sa fie neaparat si greselile noastre? De ce nu ne putem bucura din toata inima de viata pe care o traim? De ce suntem atat de pesimisti? De ce ne complicam atat de mult? De ce suntem atat de precauti? De ce nu putem sa fim liberi? Liberi sa fim NOI...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-1465221410093125115?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/1465221410093125115/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=1465221410093125115' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/1465221410093125115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/1465221410093125115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2008/12/de-ce.html' title='DE CE?'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SZArW6j0zLI/AAAAAAAAADQ/HNvUUhY1B1U/s72-c/avatars_Animals_104.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-7373111418213232412</id><published>2008-12-04T03:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T05:40:05.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ITI MAI ADUCI AMINTE...?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/STfknhOKKyI/AAAAAAAAABY/5tpSmVVUCKI/s1600-h/z.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 160px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275936856071613218" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/STfknhOKKyI/AAAAAAAAABY/5tpSmVVUCKI/s320/z.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Iti mai aduci aminte...? Cum in seri tarzii imi bateai in geam...Cum intrai in casa si aduceai cu tine mirosul iernii proaspat...Cum te asezai in fotoliu langa soba...Cum in lumina colorata a instalatiei imi priveai chipul trist...Cum ma tineai in brate si ma ascultai ore in sir...Cum iti povesteam nimicuri si ma incurajai sa trec peste ele...Cum ajungeam sa radem amandoi...Cat de aproape ne aducea sinceritatea...PRIETENE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ori de cate ori prezentul mi se pare ostil, ma refugiez in trecut si mereu la momentul acela. Atunci am stiut cum e cu adevarat sa nu fii singur si atunci am inteles ce rol important are PRIETENIA. Dar au trecut ani de atunci, te-am avut mereu langa mine si totusi nu mai erai acolo...Azi insa TE REGASESC.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-7373111418213232412?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/7373111418213232412/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=7373111418213232412' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/7373111418213232412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/7373111418213232412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2008/12/iti-mai-aduci-aminte.html' title='ITI MAI ADUCI AMINTE...?'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/STfknhOKKyI/AAAAAAAAABY/5tpSmVVUCKI/s72-c/z.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-1630548404503412803</id><published>2008-12-02T11:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T05:39:42.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>IN TIMP INVETI</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Nu sunt prima persoana care posteaza pe blogul sau versurile urmatoare, dar profunzimea lor nu m-a lasat rece si sper sa nu va lase nici pe voi. In plus, se identifica atat de bine cu Fulg de Nea...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In timp inveti - J.L. Borges&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dupa un anumit timp,&lt;br /&gt;omul invata sa perceapa diferenta subtila&lt;br /&gt;intre a sustine o mana si a inlantui un suflet,&lt;br /&gt;si invata ca amorul nu inseamna a te culca cu cineva&lt;br /&gt;si ca a avea pe cineva alaturi nu e sinonim cu starea de siguranta&lt;br /&gt;si asa, omul incepe sa invete...&lt;br /&gt;ca saruturile nu sunt contracte&lt;br /&gt;si cadourile nu sunt promisiuni,&lt;br /&gt;si asa omul incepe sa-si accepte caderile&lt;br /&gt;cu capul sus si ochii larg deschisi,&lt;br /&gt;si invata sa-si construiasca toate drumurile&lt;br /&gt;bazate in astazi si acum,&lt;br /&gt;pentru ca terenul lui "maine"&lt;br /&gt;este prea nesigur pentru a face planuri...&lt;br /&gt;si viitorul are mai mereu o multime de variante&lt;br /&gt;care se opresc insa la jumatatea drumului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si dupa un timp, omul invata ca daca e prea mult,&lt;br /&gt;pana si caldura cea datatoare de viata a soarelui,&lt;br /&gt;arde si calcineaza.&lt;br /&gt;Asa ca incepe sa-si planteze propria gradina&lt;br /&gt;si-si impodobeste propriul suflet,&lt;br /&gt;in loc sa mai astepte ca altcineva sa-i aduca flori,&lt;br /&gt;si invata ca intradevar poate suporta,&lt;br /&gt;ca intradevar are forta,&lt;br /&gt;ca intradevar e valoros,&lt;br /&gt;si omul invata si invata...&lt;br /&gt;si cu fiecare zi invata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu timpul inveti ca a sta alaturi de cineva&lt;br /&gt;pentru ca iti ofera un viitor bun,&lt;br /&gt;inseamna ca, mai devreme sau mai tarziu,&lt;br /&gt;vei vrea sa te intorci la trecut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu timpul intelegi ca doar cel care e capabil&lt;br /&gt;sa te iubeasca cu defectele tale,&lt;br /&gt;fara a pretinde sa te schimbe,&lt;br /&gt;iti poate aduce toata fericirea pe care ti-o doresti.&lt;br /&gt;Iti dai seama cu timpul ca,&lt;br /&gt;daca esti alaturi de aceasta persoana&lt;br /&gt;doar pentru a-ti intovarasi singuratatea,&lt;br /&gt;in mod inexorabil vei ajunge sa nu mai vrei sa o vezi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ajungi cu timpul sa intelegi&lt;br /&gt;ca adevaratii prieteni sunt numarati&lt;br /&gt;si ca, cel care nu lupta pentru ei,&lt;br /&gt;mai devreme sau mai tarziu se va vedea inconjurat&lt;br /&gt;doar de false prietenii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu timpul inveti ca vorbele spuse intr-un moment de manie&lt;br /&gt;pot continua tot restul vietii sa faca rau celui ranit.&lt;br /&gt;Cu timpul inveti ca a scuza&lt;br /&gt;e ceva ce poate face oricine,&lt;br /&gt;dar ca a ierta, asta doar sufletele cu adevarat mari o pot face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu timpul intelegi ca daca ai ranit grav un prieten,&lt;br /&gt;e foarte probabil ca niciodata prietenia lui&lt;br /&gt;nu va mai fi la aceeasi intensitate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu timpul iti dai seama ca,&lt;br /&gt;desi poti fi fericit cu prietenii tai,&lt;br /&gt;intr-o buna zi vei plange dupa cei&lt;br /&gt;pe care i-ai lasat sa plece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu timpul iti dai seama ca&lt;br /&gt;fiecare experienta traita&lt;br /&gt;alaturi de fiecare fiinta&lt;br /&gt;nu se va mai repeta niciodata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu timpul iti dai seama ca cel care&lt;br /&gt;umileste sau dispretuieste o fiinta umana,&lt;br /&gt;mai devreme sau mai tarziu va suferi&lt;br /&gt;aceleasi umilinte si dispret, dar multiplicate,&lt;br /&gt;ridicate la patrat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu timpul inveti ca&lt;br /&gt;grabind sau fortand lucrurile sa se petreaca,&lt;br /&gt;asta va determina ca in final,&lt;br /&gt;ele nu vor mai fi asa cum sperai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu timpul iti dai seama ca, in realitate,&lt;br /&gt;cel mai bine nu era viitorul,&lt;br /&gt;ci momentul pe care il traiai&lt;br /&gt;exact in acel moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu timpul vei vedea ca desi te simti fericit&lt;br /&gt;cu cei care iti sunt imprejur,&lt;br /&gt;iti vor lipsi teribil cei care mai ieri erau cu tine&lt;br /&gt;si acum s-au dus si nu mai sunt...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu timpul vei invata ca&lt;br /&gt;incercand sa ierti sau sa ceri iertare,&lt;br /&gt;sa spui ca iubesti, sa spui ca ti-e dor,&lt;br /&gt;sa spui ca ai nevoie, sa spui ca vrei sa fii prieten,&lt;br /&gt;dinaintea unui mormant nu mai are nici un sens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar din pacate,&lt;br /&gt;toate se invata doar cu timpul...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-1630548404503412803?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/1630548404503412803/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=1630548404503412803' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/1630548404503412803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/1630548404503412803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2008/12/in-timp-inveti.html' title='IN TIMP INVETI'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485786507061824616.post-7354061068100560061</id><published>2008-12-01T12:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T05:35:11.615-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FULGI DE NEA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/STf0coiPB9I/AAAAAAAAABo/H0esKe7hJj0/s1600-h/fulg.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 144px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275954261242349522" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/STf0coiPB9I/AAAAAAAAABo/H0esKe7hJj0/s200/fulg.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;V-ati gandit vreodata ce mult semanam noi, oamenii, cu fulgii de nea? Desi parem toti la fel, ne diferentiem intre noi prin valori, trairi si gandire....desi parem reci si duri uneori, in esenta suntem prea fragili si plapanzi...desi calatoria vietii pare lunga, la sfarsit ne dam seama ca am trait prea putin. Si totusi, ar fi atat de frumos daca am putea vedea modelul fiecarui fulg in parte, afland astfel prin ce este el diferit. De ce n-ar fi la fel si cu oamenii? Haideti sa descoperim impreuna ce este diferit in fiecare si cum putem invata unii de la altii. Acum stiti de ce Fulg de Nea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485786507061824616-7354061068100560061?l=andanastase.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/feeds/7354061068100560061/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6485786507061824616&amp;postID=7354061068100560061' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/7354061068100560061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485786507061824616/posts/default/7354061068100560061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://andanastase.blogspot.com/2008/12/v-ati-gandit-vreodata-ce-mult-semanam.html' title='FULGI DE NEA'/><author><name>Anda Nastase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05903799260503244405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/SfXm7GBlqdI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ScQXiFtcLTw/S220/MY+BOOK+007.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_m2ma698-l-w/STf0coiPB9I/AAAAAAAAABo/H0esKe7hJj0/s72-c/fulg.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
