During walk along Lipscani , ( afable about the old merchants of the past centuries) my eyes are taken by hugepiles of garbage where as if on a throne, stood empty plastic bottles.And thenI saw the ghosts of the past, creeping out of their deformed mouths, risingslowly just like the ghost of the magic lamp.But they were many, the samenumber as the empty bottles, whearing clouds with their semitransparent bodies,as if embracing each other and rising towards the heavens.When the nightattracts affection with her darkness, the ghosts shaking in the cold atmospheregather closer to each other, lying in cluster and folding themselves, beginningto exchange ideas, furtively comunicating in order to escape the fear of thenormality, the habits, and the fear of becoming animals, casted in form, drivenby reflexes.The words began to disolve in the air and the began to look likechewing gum, elongated, tourmented and passed from mouth to mouth , as “Theliberty of ideas” sticking on it’s path between the bodies.Then from the stickyheap of waves one of the ghosts muttered something that I understood:”I amtrying not to forget myself for I can’t see myself fitting in their normality.Iam a poor ghost, an escape who’s life has always existed.And I am hanched by myage, spent in a plastic bottle waiting for my release.Many of us were crouchedin form of juice and now it apperas we are transparent.Nobody understands meeven by talking the language of the chewing gum.It seems to me that sometimes Iam about to cry, but one morning I felt the warm look of a bypasser and then Iknew that we can still exist, that we aren’t the only ones who know we exist.” The nextnight I followed the pouchy ghosts and noticed on that special place of theworld’s creation " trees, growing from the ruins, between the metal and thepiles of garbage, dancing with their leaves like sirous creeping between theghosts, entering their small navels. The ghosts domain doesnever dry out.Depending on the spot you are looking you can see them, sweet andhuge, playing hide and seek, squeezing between each other’s white and oilyskins.
