\u00a0de Iris A. Knieling<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Arat\u0103 ca o icoan\u0103: <\/em>\u0102sta a fost primul lucru la care s-a g\u00e2ndit, dar nu a spus nimic pentru c\u0103 totul avea ceva at\u00e2t de serios, \u00eenc\u00e2t nu \u00eendr\u0103znea s\u0103 tulbure lini\u0219tea care se l\u0103sase \u00een jurul ei. Denis o \u00eentinsese pe bancheta din spate \u0219i el s-a a\u0219ezat pe bordur\u0103. \u00cei vedea t\u0103lpile goale, picioarele acoperite cu un hanorac \u0219i trupul ascuns sub tricoul lui. St\u0103tea cu m\u00e2inile \u00een laterale \u0219i capul \u00eei c\u0103dea \u00eentr-o parte. Era mai frumoas\u0103 dec\u00e2t o v\u0103zuse vreodat\u0103. Cineva a ap\u0103rut de nic\u0103ieri \u0219i s-a aplecat deasupra ei. Pic\u0103turile de ap\u0103 \u00eei alunec\u0103 pe obraji \u0219i i se str\u00e2ng \u00een interiorul urechii. I-ar fi pl\u0103cut s\u0103 locuiasc\u0103 acolo, chiar pe lob \u0219i s\u0103 ating\u0103 apa cu v\u00e2rfurile degetelor. A scos telefonul \u0219i, f\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103 observe nimeni, i-a f\u0103cut o poz\u0103. \u00cenainte s\u0103 vin\u0103 salvarea, a profitat de agita\u021bie \u0219i s-a aplecat s\u0103 \u00eei s\u0103rute picioarele. \u00cen spatele ma\u0219inii soarele era violet;<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Dup\u0103 ce au luat-o, a deschis telefonul. La \u00eenceput s-a g\u00e2ndit c\u0103 poate era MDA-ul, dar p\u0103rea mult prea real. \u00cen poza, se vedea fata cu t\u0103lpile spre el, m\u00e2inile \u00eei c\u0103deau delicat pe l\u00e2ng\u0103 corp, iar capul era \u00eenconjurat de o aureol\u0103 luminoas\u0103. Le-a ar\u0103tat \u0219i celorlal\u021bi, ca s\u0103 fie sigur c\u0103 nu \u00ee\u0219i imagina. To\u021bi au r\u0103mas f\u0103r\u0103 cuvinte \u0219i i-au cerut poza. P\u00e2n\u0103 seara, toat\u0103 lumea din ora\u0219 \u0219tia c\u0103 murise o sf\u00e2nt\u0103.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Nu am vrut niciodat\u0103 s\u0103 mor \u0219i totu\u0219i pare c\u0103 e cel mai important lucru pe care l-am f\u0103cut \u00een via\u021ba mea. B\u0103tr\u00e2nele \u00eemi s\u0103rut\u0103 poza, sunt flori \u0219i candele peste tot, \u00eentreg ora\u0219ul pl\u00e2nge pentru mine \u0219i totu\u0219i, nimeni nu \u00eemi \u0219tie numele. M\u0103 plimb\u0103 prin ora\u0219, iar mul\u021bimea strecoar\u0103 l\u00e2ng\u0103 mine bile\u021bele cu cele mai intime dorin\u021be, cineva \u021bine un discurs \u00een dep\u0103rtare, dar nu \u00een\u021beleg ce spune. E ciudat cum cele mai nea\u0219teptate lucruri se \u00eendeplinesc. Era vara \u00een care am r\u0103mas f\u0103r\u0103 aer. \u00centins\u0103 printre creioanele colorate, \u00eei vedeam umbra deasupra mea \u0219i corpul meu nu \u00eemi mai apar\u021binea. M-am \u00eentors spre cai\u0219i \u0219i am \u00eenchis ochii. M-am rugat \u0219i dumnezeu mi-a spus c\u0103 sufletul meu e altfel dec\u00e2t al celorlal\u021bi. \u00cen acel moment am \u0219tiut c\u0103 trebuie s\u0103 m\u0103 c\u0103lug\u0103resc \u0219i s\u0103 duc o via\u021b\u0103 de \u00eenger, dar c\u00e2t tr\u0103ie\u0219ti e\u0219ti orb. M\u0103 rugam ore \u00eentregi \u0219i pl\u00e2ngeam cu capul lipit de podea, p\u00e2n\u0103 c\u00e2nd am t\u0103cut \u0219i am realizat c\u00e2t de lini\u0219te e \u00een jurul meu. Atunci am sim\u021bit c\u0103 sunt doar o fat\u0103 \u00eentr-o camer\u0103 goal\u0103 \u0219i jum\u0103tate din lucrurile la care visez sunt doar \u00eenchipuiri. Mi-am dat seama c\u0103 vreau s\u0103 fiu briliant\u0103 \u00een ceva simplu, pe care toat\u0103 lumea \u00eel \u00een\u021belege \u0219i, aparent, cel mai bine m\u0103 pricep la a fi moart\u0103. Simt m\u00e2inile lor deasupra \u0219i pl\u00e2nsul sf\u00e2\u0219iat. Te rog, te rog vindec\u0103-m\u0103, iart\u0103-m\u0103, adu-i alinare lui..<\/em>. M\u0103 chinui s\u0103 m\u0103 rog pentru ei, dar \u00een mine nu e nimic, \u00een afar\u0103 de o lini\u0219te profund\u0103. \u00cei simt mai aproape, cum se \u021bin de mine, m\u0103 str\u00e2ng la piept cu disperare, aud aparatele de fotografiat, reporterii cum vorbesc \u0219i muzica cum c\u00e2nt\u0103 \u00een surdin\u0103. Din senin se face lini\u0219te. Vin c\u00e2te unul l\u00e2ng\u0103 mine, \u00eemi ating m\u00e2na, se apleac\u0103 cu capul pe pieptul meu \u0219i \u00eei ascult. Nimic nu r\u0103m\u00e2ne ascuns. Aud mereu acelea\u0219i lucruri, doar c\u0103 sunt al\u021bi oameni, alte locuri, nimeni nu \u00eemi ascunde nimic, to\u021bi pl\u00e2ng \u0219i m\u0103 roag\u0103 s\u0103 \u00eei iert. Vreau s\u0103 \u00eemi \u00eentorc capul, s\u0103 \u00eemi acop\u0103r urechile s\u0103 nu \u00eei mai aud, dar nu cum s\u0103 scap, sunt peste tot \u0219i vor veni l\u00e2ng\u0103 mine la infinit. S-a deschis din nou u\u0219a, dar de data asta e lini\u0219te. Nu \u00eemi spune nimic. \u00cei simt lacrimile reci pe t\u0103lpi.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 -Iart\u0103-m\u0103.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Sunt doar cuvintele lui, dar simt cum devin u\u0219oar\u0103. Capela, acoperit\u0103 cu poza mea, se face tot mai mic\u0103, nu mai simt mirosul sufocant al crizantemelor \u0219i al lum\u00e2n\u0103rilor, zgomotul lumii se \u00eempr\u0103\u0219tie, treptat \u00eencep s\u0103 uit \u0219i simt cum nimic nu mai r\u0103m\u00e2ne ascuns. Sunt at\u00e2t de aproape de lumina aia de care vorbe\u0219te toat\u0103 lumea \u0219i \u00eencep s\u0103 r\u00e2d, incontrolabil, pentru c\u0103, de fapt, nu \u00eemi mai pas\u0103 de nimic din toate astea.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u00a0de Iris A. Knieling \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Arat\u0103 ca o icoan\u0103: \u0102sta a fost primul lucru la care s-a g\u00e2ndit, dar nu a spus nimic pentru c\u0103 totul avea ceva at\u00e2t de serios, \u00eenc\u00e2t nu \u00eendr\u0103znea s\u0103 tulbure lini\u0219tea care se l\u0103sase \u00een jurul ei.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1705,15],"tags":[1706,1493,1115],"class_list":["post-15287","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-81","category-proza","tag-egophobia-81","tag-iris-a-knieling","tag-proza"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-3Yz","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15287","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=15287"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15287\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15288,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15287\/revisions\/15288"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=15287"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=15287"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=15287"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}