Tom

Tom Sawyer

“When the novel begins, Tom is a mischievous child who envies Huck Finn’s lazy lifestyle and freedom. As Tom’s adventures proceed, however, critical moments show Tom moving away from his childhood concerns and making mature, responsible decisions. [...] Sometimes Tom shows the naïveté of a smaller child, with his interest in make-believe and superstitions.

Whether or not a single course of development characterizes Tom’s adventures, a single character trait—Tom’s unflagging energy and thirst for adventure [...] . Disobedient. [...]“

Poate va intrebati ce-i cu fragmentul. Privirea lui mi-a amintit de Tom Sawyer, fapt ce m-a dus cu gandul la my own childhood. Imbatranim domnule, imbatranim. Nu mai pupam noi alergat pe maidane, julituri in coate si genunchi sau furat cirese din gradina vecinului. Acum nu mai putem decat sa citim Creanga si sa ne gandim cu o oarecare nostalgie la copilaria noastra.

Ma gandesc la un editorial de acum cateva luni al lui Harris Wellman. Spunea ca lumea uita sa se mai distreze, uita sa se mai joace, in schimb viata noastra devine din ce in ce mai mult o miscare browniana, o alergatura de la A la B, fara un scop extraordinar de bine determinat, come to think of it. Omul merge la scoala, invata sau “invata”, isi distruge sau nu cativa neuroni, apoi se pregateste de facultate unde mai invata putin (de fapt putin mai mult). Dupa care ce urmeaza? slujba, cariera, job si familie, poate rutina, poate nu. Cam trec anii.

“Whatever the struggle, continue the climb. It may be only one step to the summit.”

At this point, you cannot but wonder: is the juice worth the squeeze?

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John

” He was enjoying himself as much as he was able. It is youth’s felicity as well as its insufficiency that it can never live in the present, but must always be measuring up the day against its own radiantly imagined future – flowers and girls, girls and stars, they are only pre-figurations and prophecies of that incomparable, unattainable young dream.

John rounded a soft corner where the massed rosebushes filled the air with heavy scent, and struck off across a park towards a patch of moss under some trees. He had never lain upon mos, and he wanted to see whether it was really soft enough to justify the use of its name as an adjective. Then he saw a girl coming towards him over the grass. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

She was dressed in a white little gown that came just below her knees, and a wreath of mignonettes clasped with blue slices of sapphire bound up her hair. Her pink bare feet scattered the dew before them as she came. She was younger than John – not more than sixteen.

‘Hello,’ she cried softly, ‘I’m Kismine.’

She was much more than that to John already. He advanced towards her, scarcely moving as he drew near lest he should tread on her bare toes.

‘You haven’t met me,’ said her soft voice. Her blue eyes added, ‘Oh, but you’ve missed a great deal!’ … ‘You met my sister, Jasmine, last night. I was sick with lettuce poisoning,’ went on her soft voice, and her eyes continued, ‘and when I’m sick I’m sweet – and when I’m well.’

‘You have made an enormous impression on me,’ said John’s eyes, ‘and I’m not so slow myself’ – ‘How do you do?’ said his voice. ‘I hope you’re better this morning.’ ‘You darling,’ added his eyes tremulously.

John observed that they had been walking along the path. On her suggestion they sat down together upon the moss, the softness of which he failed to determine.

He was critical about women. A single defect – a thick ankle, a hoarse voice, a glass eye – was enough to make him utterly indifferent. And here for the first time in his life he was beside a girl who seemed to him the incarnation of physical perfection. “

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Post întârziat de 1Mai

1 Mai. A fost mare agitatie mare. Lumea a avut 4 zile libere, toti la mare, toata lumea la “distractie”. Eu am ramas in casa, confirmand in mod pasiv unele pareri ale unor indivizi. Nu simteam nevoia sa “petrec”. Eh, intr-un final m-a apucat si pe mine dorul de Vama Veche. Impreuna cu personajul din imaginile urmatoare am pornit-o dimineata de 1 mai (foarte devreme dimineata, i might add) spre Vama Veche. Ajunsi acolo, am vrut sa zic “câh”. Câh pentru ca putea si la propriu si la figurat. Pana acum nu am crezut povestile “vamaiotilor” de odinioara care ziceau cat de mult s-a degradat locul si ca “pe vremea mea..” era mai bine. Eh, am ajuns sa le dau dreptate. In doar doi ani, Vama Veche s-a transformat foarte mult. Cladiri peste cladiri, oameni cu bmw-uri si touareg-uri si tot asa. Asadar, dupa ce a repetat de vreo 10 ori timp de un minut cat de nasol e, personajul din imaginile alaturate si cu mine ne-am hotarat sa o luam spre 2Mai. Am hotarat sa petrecem 1 mai in viitor. Asa ca am luat-o la pas, erau doar vreo 4 km. Surprinzator sau nu, era sa fim calcati de multe masini, dar una singura a oprit sa ne intrebe daca nu vrem sa ne duca pana in Mangalia. Noi ca niste sedentari dornici de a face un dram de miscare, l-am refuzat politicos. El a insistat. Parea om de treaba, a zis ca nu ne cere bani. Noi am ras si i-am multumit inca o data pentru oferta. Am concluzionat: trebuie ca e din alta parte. In fine, am ajuns in 2 mai. Dupa o bere rece la o terasa, am ajuns si pe plaja. B-E-A-U-TIFUL. Liniste si pace si un hipiot care nu stia incotro s-o apuce. A fost bine, desi am fost cam third wheel, but hey, plaja din 2 mai era prea frumoasa ca sa ma simt si sa las oamenii in pace, nu?

Pana data viitoare.

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