here<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n
\nDe fiecare dat\u0103 c\u00e2nd se g\u00e2ndea la el sim\u0163ea un roi de fluturi rotindu-i-se bezmetic prin stomac p\u00e2n\u0103 c\u00e2nd i se f\u0103cea r\u0103u \u015fi totul prindea s\u0103 se \u00eenv\u00e2rt\u0103 nebune\u015fte. Nimic nu era nelalocul s\u0103u \u00een afar\u0103 de simplul fapt c\u0103 el nu exista, altfel spus c\u0103 nu avea nici o \u015ftire c\u0103 el ar exista pe undeva. Nu. Nici g\u00e2nd. \u00cel visa numai. Era iubitul ei din vis f\u0103r\u0103 chip \u015fi f\u0103r\u0103 nume. F\u0103r\u0103 contur \u015fi f\u0103r\u0103 obliga\u0163ii. C\u00e2nd se trezea, \u00ee\u015fi amintea doar c\u0103 trupul lui era pl\u0103m\u0103dit dintr-o carne moale, sidefie, irizat\u0103, \u00eentocmai ca a unui fluture de noapte. \u00cen fapt, chiar a\u015fa \u00eei p\u0103trundea \u00een vise: lop\u0103t\u00e2nd din aripile grele, \u00eenc\u0103rcate de praf stelar din cine \u015ftie ce alt\u0103 c\u0103l\u0103torie nocturn\u0103. Din cine \u015ftie ce alt\u0103 lume.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Era \u00eendr\u0103gostit\u0103 de-a binelea. \u00cel iubea cu disperare de\u015fi nu-l cunoscuse \u015fi poate nu avea s\u0103-l cunoasc\u0103 vreodat\u0103. Zilele \u00eencepuser\u0103 s\u0103 i se par\u0103 \u00eengrozitoare, dureroase \u00een absen\u0163a lui. Tr\u0103ia doar nop\u0163ile. Vie\u0163uia \u00een visele pe care le \u0163esea cu \u00eenc\u0103p\u0103\u0163\u00e2narea unui p\u0103ianjen. N\u0103d\u0103jduia s\u0103-l prind\u0103 pentru totdeauna acolo \u015fi s\u0103 se hr\u0103neasc\u0103 din carnea lui moale, translucid\u0103 de fluture noptatic. \u00ce\u015fi decora reveriile cu filigrane m\u0103t\u0103soase, sub\u0163iri, argintii ca razele lunii. Dind\u0103r\u0103tul dantel\u0103riei imposibile \u00ee\u015fi p\u00e2ndea iubitul nocturn cu col\u0163ii picur\u00e2nd venin \u015fi dragoste. O dragoste ce o devora pe din\u0103untru, azv\u00e2rlindu-i un roi de fluturi \u00een stomac de fiecare dat\u0103 c\u00e2nd se g\u00e2ndea la el. La iubitul ei f\u0103r\u0103 chip \u015fi f\u0103r\u0103 seam\u0103n \u00een lumea celor treji.<\/p>\n
Mult\u0103 vreme se plimbase pe str\u0103zi cu speran\u0163a c\u0103 el avea s\u0103-i ias\u0103 \u00een cale \u015fi fire\u015fte c\u0103-l va recunoa\u015fte de \u00eendat\u0103 cu ochiul inimii. Scruta cu privirea orice chip, orice pas, z\u0103bovind \u00eendeob\u015fte asupra palmelor, bra\u0163elor sau g\u00e2tului. Carnea sfredelitor de alb\u0103 f\u0103cea ca inima s\u0103-i bat\u0103 cu putere. Bum, bum, buuum, dar vai, acela nu putea fi el, cel pe care \u00eel visa! Fiecare dezam\u0103gire o \u00eendep\u0103rta de trezie azv\u00e2rlind-o \u00eentr-o stare boln\u0103vicioas\u0103 de reverie cu ochii deschi\u015fi. Zilele \u00eei treceau, astfel, ca o clis\u0103 \u015fi abia nop\u0163ile se trezea la via\u0163\u0103, brod\u00e2nd vis dup\u0103 vis din fire de borangic \u00een cleiul c\u0103rora el avea s\u0103 se prind\u0103 odat\u0103 \u015fi odat\u0103.<\/p>\n
Nu mai avea nimic dintr-o femeie pentru c\u0103 dragostea ei nu mai avea nimic omenesc. Era o femel\u0103 de p\u0103ianjen \u00eenfometat\u0103, gata s\u0103-\u015fi \u00eenfig\u0103 col\u0163ii \u015fi s\u0103 \u00ee\u015fi picure veninul mortal. Gata s\u0103-\u015fi paralizeze prada, s\u0103 o \u00eenha\u0163e \u015fi s\u0103 o \u00eenghit\u0103 \u00eencet, \u00eencet, \u00eencet, \u00eencet, \u00eencet de tot. Nu avea nici m\u0103car un strop de mil\u0103, dar avea un ocean de r\u0103bdare c\u0103ci \u015ftia c\u0103, \u00eentr-una din nop\u0163i, p\u0103ienjeni\u015ful visurilor va \u00eencepe s\u0103 tresalte, vestindu-i astfel prinderea pr\u0103zii.<\/p>\n
\u00centre timp, trebuia s\u0103 ascund\u0103 monstrul \u00een care se schimba \u015fi care o \u00eenghi\u0163ea pe din\u0103untru, \u00eens\u0103 nu \u00eei era prea greu pentru c\u0103 semnele exterioare erau ca \u015fi inexistente. Metamorfoza s-ar fi putut vedea numai din interior, \u00eens\u0103 cine altcineva s\u0103-i p\u0103trund\u0103 \u00een suflet \u015fi \u00een minte prin fereastra viselor dac\u0103 nu tocmai el, cel pentru care \u00ee\u015fi l\u0103sase s\u0103 creasc\u0103 cele opt picioare lungi \u015fi pentru care \u0163esea toate acele p\u00e2nze cleioase? Iar el, chiar s\u0103 fi fost \u00eenzestrat cu mii de ochi, tot n-ar fi putut s\u0103 vad\u0103 ce se petrece. Pentru c\u0103 nu i-ar fi l\u0103sat timp. L-ar fi iubit ucig\u0103tor. O clip\u0103 de dragoste ve\u015fnic\u0103. Apoi, cu stomacul plin, p\u0103ianjenul ar fi brodat un vis din fire albe, str\u0103vezii precum carnea celui devorat. P\u00e2n\u0103 atunci st\u0103tea la p\u00e2nd\u0103 \u00eentr-un col\u0163 al min\u0163ii sale. Nemi\u015fcat\u0103 \u015fi nev\u0103zut\u0103. A\u015ftepta, a\u015ftepta, a\u015ftepta \u015fi iar a\u015ftepta. Dup\u0103 care a\u015ftepta din nou. \u015fi din nou.<\/p>\n
\u00centre timp, p\u00e2nzele pe care le \u0163esea nu mai aveau nimic firesc, nimic p\u0103ienjenesc \u00een alc\u0103tuirea lor. Erau de-a dreptul atroce, \u00eenver\u015funate, teribil de am\u0103nun\u0163ite. F\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103-\u015fi dea seama, urzise un \u00eentreg cuib cu firele \u00eencruci\u015fate p\u00e2n\u0103 la dezn\u0103dejde. Pe din\u0103untru, un labirint f\u0103r\u0103 nici o ie\u015fire, pe dinafar\u0103, un z\u00e2mbet f\u0103r\u0103 pricin\u0103 \u015fi o privire ce luneca nep\u0103s\u0103toare pe deasupra tuturor lucrurilor. Pe din\u0103untru, un paing \u00eenfometat \u00een a\u015fteptarea pr\u0103zii, pe dinafar\u0103, \u00eensingurare.<\/p>\n
Trebuia s\u0103 hr\u0103neasc\u0103 p\u0103ianjenul cumva. A \u00eenceput s\u0103 se mutileze. S-a r\u0103nit mai \u00eent\u00e2i cu un cu\u0163it, \u00eens\u0103 n-a fost de ajuns.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u015ei-a crestat bra\u0163ele l\u0103s\u00e2nd s\u00e2ngele s\u0103 curg\u0103 tulbure. A lins lama ascu\u0163it\u0103 \u015fi a icnit de pl\u0103cere. Pentru o vreme \u00eel s\u0103turase. Pentru o vreme spera s\u0103 nu \u00eei mai cear\u0103 nimic \u015fi s\u0103 \u00eei \u00eeng\u0103duie s\u0103 viseze la iubitul ei nocturn. \u00cei pl\u0103cea s\u0103 simt\u0103 din nou roiul de fluturi \u00een stomac rotindu-se ame\u0163itor odat\u0103 cu camera, cu strada \u015fi ora\u015ful, cu zeul furibund ce picura venin \u015fi melancolie peste lume. Triste\u0163ea se prelingea pretutindeni \u00een valuri gre\u0163oase.<\/p>\n
O durea capul din ce \u00een ce mai des. Dureri atroce, prelungi, t\u0103ioase. T\u0103i\u015f, lam\u0103, cu\u0163it, luciu metalic. Oroare. V\u0103rs\u0103turi. P\u00e2ntecul neted \u00een convulsiuni. P\u0103ianjenul se hr\u0103nea lent cu amintirile ei. Smulgea \u0163esuturi \u00eenc\u0103rcate de semnifica\u0163ii, scurma cu cheliferii \u00een memoria ei \u015fi \u00eenghi\u0163ea h\u0103lci \u00eentregi de trecut. \u00cenfuleca ani dup\u0103 ani. Cur\u0103\u0163a tot p\u00e2n\u0103 la os, iar \u00een urm\u0103 \u00eei c\u0103ptu\u015fea mintea cu o p\u00e2nz\u0103 str\u0103vezie, putred\u0103, ca un lin\u0163oliu.<\/p>\n
\u00cen\u0103bu\u015fitoare, bezna \u00eei inunda \u0163easta. Se l\u0103sa o noapte nesf\u00e2r\u015fit\u0103, abominabil\u0103. \u00cen lini\u015ftea r\u0103u-prevestitoare se auzea doar fojg\u0103itul celor opt picioare \u015fi veninul picur\u00e2nd lent din col\u0163i. Dintr-odat\u0103, \u00een afara oric\u0103rui timp, p\u00e2nza prinse a tremura u\u015for. Ca cercurile de ap\u0103 ale unui lac ad\u00e2nc st\u00e2rnite de o pietricic\u0103. Aripi grele, \u00eenc\u0103rcate de praf stelar b\u0103teau aerul dur de sub cupola \u0163estei. P\u00e2nza tres\u0103lta spasmodic \u00een vreme ce splendidul fluture noptatic se zb\u0103tea s\u0103 \u00ee\u015fi desprind\u0103 aripile din \u0163es\u0103tura de fire ce se tot str\u00e2ngea \u00een jurul corpului s\u0103u. Avea aripi de fluture, dar corpul era al unui b\u0103rbat cu carne alb\u0103, zemoas\u0103, sidefie, irizat\u0103 \u00een culori sticloase. Era ireal. Splendid. Nemaiv\u0103zut. Iubitul din vis al oric\u0103rei femei. Acum o prad\u0103 sigur\u0103 \u00een cuibul de fire cleioase din care, oric\u00e2t s-ar fi zv\u00e2rcolit, tot n-ar fi sc\u0103pat.<\/p>\n
Opt picioare alunecau prin labirintul de m\u0103tase. O pereche de cheliferi din care picurau veninul \u015fi dragostea. Un p\u00e2ntec care se mi\u015fca pofticios. P\u0103ianjenul se apropia de fluture \u00eencet. Aerul era plin de o teroare sacr\u0103 \u015fi de pulberea fin\u0103, aurie pe care o \u00eempr\u0103\u015ftiau aripile fluturelui. P\u0103ianjenul cl\u0103mp\u0103ni de c\u00e2teva ori din f\u0103lcile metalice \u015fi se n\u0103pusti asupra pr\u0103zii. O amor\u0163i, o \u00eenh\u0103\u0163\u0103 \u015fi \u00eencepu s\u0103 s\u0103-i sug\u0103 s\u00e2ngele alb din trupul catifelat. \u00cel goli ca pe un s\u0103cule\u0163. Pliuri de piele stafidit\u0103.<\/p>\n
S\u0103tul, p\u0103ianjenul se \u00eendep\u0103rt\u0103, l\u0103s\u00e2nd \u00een urm\u0103 aripile fluturelui at\u00e2rn\u00e2nd de o coaj\u0103 uscat\u0103 ce \u00eenvelise p\u00e2n\u0103 atunci carnea sidefie. Cu p\u00e2ntecul plin, femela se retrase \u00eentr-un ungher doar ca acolo s\u0103 secrete un lichid v\u00e2scos \u00een care amesteca cleiul cu s\u00e2ngele alb al fluturelui. Apoi \u00eencepu s\u0103 \u0163eas\u0103 cea mai frumoas\u0103 p\u00e2nz\u0103 de p\u0103ianjen ce a \u00eenc\u0103put vreodat\u0103 \u00een mintea unei femei \u00een vreme ce viseaz\u0103 la iubitul s\u0103u stelar.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
de Bogdan Mure\u015fanu \u00a0for the English version click\u00a0here De fiecare dat\u0103 c\u00e2nd se g\u00e2ndea la el sim\u0163ea un roi de fluturi rotindu-i-se bezmetic prin stomac p\u00e2n\u0103 c\u00e2nd i se f\u0103cea r\u0103u \u015fi totul prindea s\u0103 se \u00eenv\u00e2rt\u0103 nebune\u015fte. Nimic nu era nelalocul s\u0103u \u00een afar\u0103 de simplul fapt c\u0103 el nu exista, altfel […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[925,393],"tags":[509,1160,54],"class_list":["post-8702","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-35","category-prozascurta","tag-bogdan-muresanu","tag-egophobia-35","tag-proza-scurta"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-2gm","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8702","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\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8702"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8702\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9923,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8702\/revisions\/9923"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8702"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8702"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8702"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}