…in fiecare zi cu vant…

…lucrurile mele prind aripi… intai plutesc langa parchet, apoi se desprind rand pe rand, cuvintele de flori de cuc, dantelele imbibate-n asteptare, oglinzile cu rame poleite-n zadar, amintirile zaharisite, tainele toate, apoi pornesc s-adie, fluturand, levitand pana sus, fugind, dispersandu-se, suflate parca de acele foale uriase… dupa care, cateodata, nu prea ma dau in vant…

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