Bucharest 1-2-3-…-8

Bucharest. Day 1. July 23 2010

Smiling near the world of fantasies.  What if the painter, or painter who painted the wall, or builders who built it were smiling in front of it in just the same way? Imagine the imaginary photos..

Continue reading “Bucharest 1-2-3-…-8”

Passivite courtoise

A young boy was looking up into a hill. It was a dark hill, and he was a very young boy. Still, he wanted to climb it. He wanted to rush up, to fly up and be the king of the world. Young. Do you know that young boys might see the world differently than the older ones? Or young girls than older girls. Or..
A young boy was looking up into a picture. It was a picture of a mountain.
He took a brush that he saw in the corner, of what was a room, not the field or valley or garden, where it’s much more likely to see hills..
This young boy decided to paint a few rings that would protect him when he climbs. This was a place which didn’t let any weaknesses in, and a place that took in all climbers, all things that could or would climb. This was boys image.
This is artist image, where boy could have been an artist, yet an impressive picture, a though-provoking piece.

About Passivite courtoise by Victor Brauer, a painting I have seen in National Museum of Art

Cut the cutter

A little journey into the land of jobs/ things to do that I don’t like, more issues to share on this blog!

That sound of cutting the grass(mowing)!

That smell of cut down grass!

That feeling when you are walking barefoot over the field of mowed grass!

That puzzlement when you can’t find a shadow!

That thoughtless move of throwing down a burning stick!

That growing hair you always have to cut!

That sharpish nail grows back every week!

That childish thought of  breaking trees, attacking others with the branches…

Why do we cut so often? What cutting gives us, what it takes? What if we never cut, how would  our yards would seem, our trees would be…?


Let us visit a world of runners for a little while. It is a world where everyone is running in one way or other, for one reason or another. Some animals are running away from their fierce enemies, stronger species. Some animals are trying to catch their dinner, weaker species. A dog here or two dogs there are stretching their legs after a long sleep. An average velocity for a being in this world is 15.0034 km/hour (sleeping time included). Shortest run is not considered a goal or something to seek for, so is not counted. Longest run – one crazy sifaka jumped up and started running a second after it was born – and is still running! Sifaka’s are also considered the most beautiful runners: either flying from one tree to another or hopping on the ground, almost dancing. We can simply define this world of runners as a runnersworld, or R-World, where R stands for run.

Let us create a human being in this R-World, a relatively slow runner (one that brings the average velocity down, could be not 15.0034, but 15.0039, or even 15.0040!). He’s training, running in a stadium, trying to improve his time, improve humanity’s position in the R-World. Now, who is he? Does it matter to us? In the R-world, all we need to know is that he completes one stadium lap in 24 seconds.  Is he in any way important? He might be, because I want us to create a situation for him. If he and all R-World was like a doll-play, we could move all the figures ourselves. Let us do just that. From here on is a fragment of one such doll-play.

A human being is running, putting all his energy into completing another lap, and another, maybe improving his time. Suddenly, he hears a shout, something behind his back, and turns his head, still running. It’s another runner, another human being, running towards him with ever greater speed. What does he want? A doll-player who creates a play, now, thinks that he had created a play, the figures are in their places. But what next? They can’t just keep on doing what they are doing – it would be just the same R-world, with all it’s runs and runs-after. Hence we leave the play, and just think about what we have created.

One man running after another, wanting something, even angry. Why? If we know that they have nothing in common, why don’t they just pass each other? Maybe the R-World is just like any other? In so many world that we might imagine, we can create a situation with a runner. It does not have to be R-World, any is fine, just with a runner. So we can leave the world of runners.

What have we learnt? Not much, because the doll-play is just a stage, without any emotions, motives, just with a set-up. A set-up for running away. To really feel the tension, the position of such a set-up, we must experience it ourselves. It can be ugly – if someone’s running after you, wanting to hurt you. It can be fun, if you just run away from a-wanting-to-shake-hands friend, or after an exam, without saying goodbye to your mates. Is it a situation we should fear, ignore, shy off, or face, encounter, challenge?…

Also, there’s a nice song with the same name “Runaway” by The National

A dreamer

A little boy cries out for his mother or father after a scary dream. What is it that he dreamt? Was it a dragon, a witch, or was he running, but not getting anywhere, or drowning, but not fully?
He’s given a cold glass of water, and after that everything’s alright. The boy forgets the tension, the scare, the dream, and sleeps again.
Until, again,  the boy is waken from his sleep – but it’s not his who’s fault it is.
His little sister, Ann, cries out this time around. What is the problem? Who’s hurt? Who dares disturb me on such late an hour? The thoughts run through boy’s mind.
It is a dream, a dream that makes him wonder. It makes him wonder, why does he wake at 2 o’clock, at 4 o’clock, but not half past 2, not half past 4. It is the reason, too.
When the boy brushes his teeth, makes all the necessary preparations, and goes to sleep, it seems just like an ordinary ritual, that everybody does. Yet it is different, entirely different, because, when sleeping, boy lives in his own world. Not in someone’s else, but in his. It is a world that he creates.
How can the boy understand, then, the cry of his little sister, Ann, when she cries out of hers, entirely different, sleeping world. What’s the connection?
The girl is given cold glass of water, too, but little that’s in common. Oh, did she dream of scary monster, or speedy racer, it was not the same. Even, if Ann dreamt running, but not getting anywhere, it was not as little boys, because it is entirely different world, her own creation.
How then can mother, or father understand, what happens inside their children mind’s? What if they have forgotten the sleep themselves, not dreamt for years? Should they even say: drink this glass, and never dream that ugly dream again, if it’s that dream.. a dream that makes them special?
A dream, that makes us dreamers, all of us. Like little boys, or girls, or boys that was, or girls that was. No matter, is it scary, or lovely, or exploitative, we can enjoy it. A dreamers’ nation.

Who needs a break ?

 “I don’t know how I got here. Maybe it’s because of the overdose! A green, empty field…I don’t know where I am, I don’t know who I am. Can I break away from myself?”

“I only have to finish this paper…and to give that phone call. Oh, and I should also send an email…It’s time out for me! I want to break out! “

“Seconds are passing without any meaning…In my room, self-isolated, I am free to do nothing. My parents are desperate. I can’t remember the last time I talked to them. Is this what they call a breakdown? ”

“Today’s operation ended well. We still need funds for renovating the hospital. I just can’t let the employees unwatched. I sometimes wonder if the patients` sufferance still touches me. Why not break free?”

 “We haven’t seen each other for three years. She is my sister and I thought I hate her. Now I am always with other friends, never alone. Never myself. How could I break off from this feeling ?”

“I run all the time, I am training hours and hours. My body keeps going, but my soul says “no” to every step I make. I am tired inside; I don’t feel I exist anymore…I can’t break through anymore.”

“I can’t talk to my son. There is a precipice between us. I wouldn’t even know what to tell him. It’s strange that I can’t remember anything from my childhood. He just told me : “Give me a break!”

“We have profit. We have eliminated the concurrence .We are in top. I succeeded in defeating all my rivals, am I happy now? As a human I lost, so this is a break even  point.”

“I am sad, I am captive. The one I trusted disappointed me. I don’t love him anymore, I am afraid of him. I almost forgot how it’s like to be free to smile. I need to break the silence.”

The teacher, in the classroom, launches a question knitting his brows” “A break? Why do you want a break? Explain me in a few lines, all of you, why do you need a break!”

 The employee runs without looking behind: “The sea, the waves, they both come with me! I left behind all the fears, all the obligations! I am free! ”

The athlete writes slowly: “The wind whispered me to fly far, far away. But far away from me, it’s not myself. I am in these lines, here, here is my soul!”

The drug-addicted opens his eyes: “What a beautiful flower!  I slept so much! There’s so much life around me! I want to remain sober, to see all the flowers from the world blooming!”

The medicine woman closes her eyes:”I am going deep in my dream…I see myself, I am a child again. I am trying to cure my doll from a cold; I am giving her strawberry syrup with a little spoon.”

The business man cries: “I am sad, I want to feel, understand and regret again! No, I don’t want to be on  top. All I want is to bring joy in someone’s life!”

The teenager paints: “I laugh, together with the avalanches of bright colors from my painting! I am talking with the shades, I am whispering secrets to the shapes, I am hiding myself in lines and points! I will let them know the meaning of my drawing”.

The young woman leaves: “No, I will never come back. I don’t know where I am going today, but for sure not home. I breathe, I live only for myself! I stopped destroying myself! “

The brother comes back:  “I will return to her, to my sister, my true friend. I don’t want to pretend anymore I am someone else, to lie every moment … Only now I stepped on the right path”.

The father is playing: “Catch it! Yes! And…pass it to me! No, don’t throw the ball like this! They don’t teach you at school nothing useful, do they?”

The teacher stopped near the desk of a student .He takes the paper and he reads: “We want a break…to live. A break…to be free to chose.”








Creating together

Time for experiments!

This is one of  (hopefully many) in this website. .


A poem. Alexander Pearce. A Thief?

It was only noon when Alexander started walking

He had no shoes, felt hungry, feeling almost naked.

He glanced at barons, baronesses, rich and happy.

What was he to do, to be like them, to have a smile?


Alexander had a friend: barefoot, hungry, pitiful.

He too was a laborer, like Alexander, almost slave.

He worked for bread,  he slept for it, but did he get it?

What did he wake for, if not to share his misery?


Alexander had a goal: yes, to steal a shoe or two.

Some had twenty, he had none,  he wanted to.

Evil was this goal, but wasn’t everyone.. just Evil?

Friend of Alexander’s did agree, yet he did nothing.



Knowing the real story of Alexander Pearce (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Pearce), we can continue this poem, or then create similar ones  or discuss issues the poem discusses or tell a modern Alexander’s story … I don’t set any particular rules, just what is written will be added to the end of the poem, adding the alias of author to it:)

People imprisoned and/or isolated in harsh conditions end up by becoming beasts.Even if their original fault was very small (eg:stealing some shoes) or even non-existent.

Another desert island pessimistic story on losing one’s humanity is Golding’s Lord of the Flies. Children left alone on an island end up by killing themselves:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lord_of_the_Flies.

But also remember of Jean Valjean’s character from the classic Les Miserables who spent 19 years in prison for stealing a bread.The time spent in prison almost transformed him in a monster.But Victor Hugo says there is always HOPE and one only needs to be treated with kindness to become again human.

What do you believe about human nature?

What is poetry? Kas yra poezija?

Firstly, this post is a question. It is not and never was clear to me what the poetry is. Yet I and everyone else face it from their days we were little(nuo dienų, kai buvome maži). Was it a birthday song, a few melodic lines learnt in the nursery, a happy Valentine,  some structured creativity in you secret diary or what you had to learn by heart in school.

But these are only examples of poetry. It’s not very easy to deduce from those what poetry is. The same way it would be difficult to say how a camera takes pictures, while not knowing what the mechanism was.

So what really is poetry?

Continue reading “What is poetry? Kas yra poezija?”