Friday, 1 August 2014

those childhood summers

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The fair in the month of August brought me many other sadnesses and exaltations. The full spectacle swelled like a symphony, from the prelude of isolated attractions that arrived much before the others and that indicated the general tone of the fair, like the prolonged stray notes that announce the entire theme of the composition at the beginning of the concert, to the grandiose conclusion, bursting forth with shouts, shots and fanfare on the culminating day, followed by the immense silence of the field, deserted once again. 

The few attractions that came early encompassed, in essence, the whole fair and represented it exactly. It was enough that only the first of them were set up, for all the colors, all the brilliance and all the carbide smell of the whole fair to descend into town.

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In the obscurity of the boulevard a tiara of colored glass would light up toward evening, like the earth’s first constellation. Soon others would follow and the boulevard became a luminous corridor, along which I would wander, speechless, as I had once seen, in an illustrated edition of Jules Verne, a boy my age, leaning against the porthole of a submarine, looking out into the suboceanic darkness, at the wonderful and mysterious marine phosphorescences.

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Adventures in Immediate Unreality 

translated by Jeanie Han 


  1. "... bâlciul din luna august îmi aducea multe alte tristeţi şiexaltări. Spectacolul lui amplu se umfla ca o simfonie, de la preludiul panoramelor izolate, ce soseau cu mult înaintea tuturor şi indicau tonul general al bâlciului, ca notele răzleţe şi prelungi ce anunţă la începutul bucăţii de concert tema întregii compoziţii, şi până la finalul grandios, plesnind de urlete, pocnete şi fanfare, în ziua temeiului, urmat de tăcerea imensă acâmpului rămas pustiu.
    Cele câteva panorame ce veneau de timpuriu cuprindeau, în esenţă, bâlciul în întregime şi îl reprezentau cu exactitate. Era de ajuns ca numai prima din ele să se instaleze, pentru ca tot coloritul, toată strălucirea şi tot mirosul de carbid al bâlciului complet, să sescoboare în oraş.

    În obscuritatea bulevardului se aprindea atunci către seară o diademă de sticliricolorate, ca o primă constelaţie a pămîntului. În curând altele o urmau şi bulevardul deveneaun coridor luminos, şi de-a lungul căruia umblam înmărmurit, aşa cum văzusem într-o ediţie ilustrată de Jules Verne un băiat de vârsta mea, răzimat de fereastra unui submarin, privind afară, în întunecimile suboceanice, minunate şi misterioase fosforescenţe marine.

  2. Amazing! I don't know why these pictures make me think of Italy..or at least Fellini.

    1. ohhhhhhh

      i don't know about Fellini, but it was _Italy_! :-)
      a fair in Ferrara...

  3. Toujours cette magie qui opère : le charme de tes photographies. Cette jeune fille est très belle et nous partageons sa joie de vivre ;-) Les bulles magiques nous emportent loin dans la rêverie et les sourires apportent de la lumière. Il y a de la magie et de l'innocence dans l'enfance que beaucoup perdent au fil du temps... J'essaie de conserver cette magie même si le corps ne garde pas l'innocence très longtemps :-)
    Il y a bien longtemps que je ne suis passé sur un pont pour lire des poésies magiques ! He bien voilà, c'est fait !et I'll be back !!!
    Des très très gros bisous Roxana ;-)

  4. da, si eu tot la Italia m-am gandit. e ceva in felul in care ai prelucrat, cu detaliile multe, cu toata viata si agitatia impresurate in miscari, ca Italia a fost singurul raspuns posibil.


  5. i don't know what to say. there is too much to be said. her eyebrows (specifically hers, the eyebrows she will wear as a woman), the weight of her stubborn straight hair in the elastics (they don't make hair elastics like they did in the 70's:), her twist-on earrings, her unmatched and yet playful barrettes, her invitation to it all, arms open, and her movement through it all with wonder and acceptance - the world is magical, isn't it, and strange, and so easily she takes it in. but it is odd from my perspective. i feel just slightly off kilter, as though some other kind of truth lurks. i'm not sure why. perhaps i'm projecting. or perhaps there is always a darkness lurking in your photography. or perhaps it's in the text. or in the mirrors themselves. or could it be that the darkness lurks truthfully in everything and wonder plays with it?

    oh, and there is the photographer herself stepping into (out of?) the mirror:)


  6. es sind wirklich wunderschöne bilder und wie sehr klärchen sich verändert hat, sie wird so langsam ein teenager :-), wirklich schön...! ich konnte mich am wochenende nicht melden, ana war krank, ich war bei zwei verschiedenen ärzten und der zweite hat geholfen... ! bis bald! renée etwas müde, verwundert und nachdenklich.

  7. hello my beautiful friend. How I loooooooooooooove your photos. I too was at the fair this summer and was thinking what a wonderful meditative tool this fair would be when the field was emptied haha.
    ah and the little princess of light is an inspiration was more.what more could I hope for- her playing with multicoloured bubbles haha wink.
    So I'll be back to comment.
    sending you and the princess of light summer hugs.

  8. Roxana:
    Hermosa aventura, expresivo relato de una fiesta...
    Te esperamos en, con una fotografía tuya, verdaderamente increíble...

  9. 1.Hi my beautiful friend roxana. It is so wonderflul to have the little princess of the floating bridge of dreams visiting with us.what better way to explore mentally the summer fair.
    Well here are some dream thoughts related to the fair. I felt as I was at the fair what a wonderful meditation this visit would be as an afterthought.
    the myriad lights to lead my summer vagabond mind even further astray. stars close enough to touch with an earth wand through the masquerade of the night the blue schist of high pressure and low temperatures the inability to draw away from the light trance and the non burning of the starlight - the pacification of the pathway of everyday existence.
    and the princess of light in these photos with her gypsy like dance clothed in her shawl of mysiticism orbits with our minds.

  10. 2 and the princess of light spinning the bubbles of multicoloured light spheres of existence orbiting ancestral pathways connecting from the earth to a cosmic plane (oh my god I almost wrote platform instead of plane haha.) and the invisible runways of the mind.

    sending you both a beautiful summer day and hugs.

  11. This gave me a sweet heart ache.

  12. Those eyes, that exuberance. Makes me hate being an adult; trying to take everything in stride and hold it all together.

  13. de putine ori in lume s-au potrivit atat de bine lucrurile si au sarbatorit asa de larg Viata, Dansul si fost,desi povestea de aici este inca proaspata,nu, atatea sarbatoriri si bucurii-nici nu stiai atunci,nu,ca o sa o intalnim, iar zilele trecute am fost din nou la un balci,unul adevarat, singura prin caldura, ca atunci cand eram mica, targuindu-ma cu tiganii,si tot,si nici nu imi vine sa cred cat de bine se potriveste cu ceva ce inca nu stii, si va fi una dintre Surprizele cele mai mari...atata sarbatorire a vacantei,draga,si bridge -ul nu a fost niciodata mai invartejitor in carusel....

  14. In your darling girl, you have captured fleeting memories of our own lost child. Our magical youth, before the clock began ticking, was some endless joy. Then we lost it to the demands of getting through days and getting older. I am 70 years old and still remember licking cotton candy. Thank you for reminding me of that.

  15. PS...the photos are amazing...

  16. this is the sort of real innocence and real beauty that we spend our lives longing to find again, when once we have lost it ... but i don't think these photographs invite us to dwell on the loss:-) rather, we are allowed to share the joy of this beautiful (i say, angelic) child, the excitement of discovering that one is alive on the earth during this moment, of movement and laughing :-)

    if the photographs are only that, then they are already more than we could ever hope for from art ... but is this not also an allegory of consciousness? there is a moment in childhood when we stand before the self as before a mirror and know, with amazement, that i am i (but also, i am these others, this time, this place), and realize that the joy of this moment and its fragility are inseparable --- that the moment (or even life, i suppose) his something in common with the soap bubble that we swell with breath and seem to control, as it shivers with the pleasure of reflected lights ...

    and how complicated all this becomes, when we notice the image of the photographer herself!!! there is the girl, and the reflected image of the girl, and the reflection of the photographer, all circulating, all touching in this air (as if the photographer wakes to her own new understanding, because the lovely child is her mirror) ... all gathered into the lens of the camera and offered somehow outside of time ... perfect ... alive, still ...


  17. Minunata serie :-)

  18. Always and forever beautiful, Roxana...

  19. thank you all so much, dear friends... i am a bit without words at the moment, you will forgive me for not answering individually this time. please know that i am very grateful for each of your words and each thought and emotion you have shared here with me.

  20. I'm late. My apologies, professor. You see, Ariel, my fearsome dog, ate my homework. Also, and this isn't really an excuse, it takes me several days to study and extract from each photograph every bit of charm that was intended. So you see, I am late. Can I bring you an apple tomorrow?

    (Bribery is always the last resort of a scoundrel.)