{"id":363,"date":"2014-04-04T20:20:35","date_gmt":"2014-04-04T20:20:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/?p=363"},"modified":"2014-04-04T20:20:35","modified_gmt":"2014-04-04T20:20:35","slug":"sase-texte-cautarea-celui-de-al-saptelea","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/sase-texte-cautarea-celui-de-al-saptelea\/","title":{"rendered":"\u0218ase texte \u00een c\u0103utarea celui de-al \u0219aptelea"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><b>1.<\/b> Se desc\u0103l\u0163\u0103 gr\u0103bit \u015fi-mi ar\u0103t\u0103 pe piciorul st\u00e2ng ceva. \u2013 Ce-i asta? \u00eel \u00eentreb nedumerit. \u2013 Nu \u015ftiu. O vrei? \u015ei m\u0103 privi preocupat. \u2013 Cred c\u0103 n-am ce face cu ea, \u00eencep eu retragerea. \u2013 Ce conteaz\u0103. O vrei, ia-o! Poftim, nu se las\u0103 el. \u2013 Ai dreptate. Totu\u015fi, chiar a\u015fa f\u0103r\u0103 nici un scop? \u2013 Nu fi idiot. E singurul lucru cu care n-ai ce face, nici pe lumea asta, nici pe ailalt\u0103. Nu mai g\u0103se\u015fti a\u015fa ceva. \u2013 Bine, zic, fac t\u00e2rgul. \u00cen tot acest timp, luna mu\u015fca lacom\u0103 din \u00eentuneric \u015fi lucrurile din jurul nostru \u015fi de pe noi \u0163ipau pe toate tonurile oferindu-ne necesitatea lor de ne\u00eenlocuit. Ne-am desp\u0103r\u0163it ferici\u0163i.<\/span><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><b style=\"color: #000000; line-height: 1.5em;\">2.<\/b><span style=\"color: #000000; line-height: 1.5em;\"> Individul se uita la televizor. La un meci de fotbal. Era de\u0163inutul propriului timp liber. Oaspe\u0163ii marcau gol dup\u0103 gol. Omul nostru jubila. Uitase de \u0163ig\u0103ri \u015fi cafea. \u0162ipa. Urla. Corecta mi\u015fc\u0103rile gre\u015fite ale combatan\u0163ilor d\u00e2nd dezl\u0103n\u0163uit din picioare. Din cap. Gazdele dau un gol. Deziluzie. Cota entuziasmului cre\u015fte \u00eens\u0103 din nou. So\u0163ia-l p\u0103r\u0103sise de dou\u0103 s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2ni. Copilul, la socri. Gol! Normator la cea mai mare \u015fi mai modern\u0103 \u015fi mai toate celelalte \u00eentreprindere din ora\u015f. De fapt \u015fi singura. C\u00e2\u015ftiga bine. Favoritul rateaz\u0103. \u0162ig\u0103rile. Cafeaua. \u00cenjur\u0103turi. Gazdele reduc din handicap. Extraordinar! EGALEZ\u0102! Are o amant\u0103 care vrea s\u0103 se mute la el. O am\u00e2n\u0103. \u00cenchide televizorul. Fumeaz\u0103. Se g\u00e2nde\u015fte la o coleg\u0103 de servici. Aia, da. Soneria. Deschide. Un t\u00e2n\u0103r cu p\u0103rul albit de un \u015foc emotiv puternic intr\u0103 \u00een camer\u0103. E timid. Speriat. Se prezint\u0103. \u201eEu sunt Trecutul dumneavoastr\u0103.\u201d Individul nostru scap\u0103 \u0163igara din m\u00e2n\u0103. Se sprijin\u0103 de perete. \u00ce\u015fi revine \u00eentr-o secund\u0103 \u015fi-ncepe s\u0103 \u0163ipe scos din min\u0163i: \u201eIe\u015fi afar\u0103! Afar\u0103! Afar\u0103!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><b>3.<\/b> Nimerisem \u00eentr-un ora\u015f foarte viu. Str\u0103zile mi\u015funau de oameni, magazinele \u00eenfloreau peste tot, circula\u0163ia autovehiculelor se desf\u0103\u015fura fluent. O minune. Dar, \u00eentr-una din plimb\u0103rile mele, am \u00eent\u00e2lnit o situa\u0163ie care m-a nedumerit. Un om \u00eentre dou\u0103 v\u00e2rste, cu fa\u0163a tot o ran\u0103, trecea printre ceilal\u0163i, cl\u0103tin\u00e2ndu-se, \u015fi primea de la fiecare c\u00e2te o palm\u0103 zdrav\u0103n\u0103. Numai \u00een fa\u0163\u0103. Nu riposta, nu vorbea. \u00ce\u015fi vedea de drum. \u201eNu credeam c\u0103 sunte\u0163i a\u015fa de r\u0103i\u201d, spuneam trec\u0103torilor, \u00eencerc\u00e2nd s\u0103 aflu despre ce este vorba. \u201eNici nu suntem\u201d, mi se r\u0103spundea invariabil. \u201eAtunci de ce da\u0163i \u00een el f\u0103r\u0103 nici un pic de mil\u0103?\u201d \u201eD\u2019aia! Oricum, va muri peste dou\u0103 zile.\u201d Omul, cu o figur\u0103 \u00eengrozitor de clar\u0103, se cl\u0103tina sub lovituri \u00eendrept\u00e2ndu-se spre cas\u0103.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><b>4. <\/b>Un loc lini\u015ftit. Doar obi\u015fnuita zumz\u0103ial\u0103 a restaurantului din or\u0103\u015fel \u015fi lumina difuz\u0103, absorbit\u0103 de plu\u015f, fum, perdele. Aici, to\u0163i se cunosc, nu scap\u0103 nimeni f\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103 salute sau s\u0103 fie salutat. Consumatorii discut\u0103-ntre ei pe deasupra meselor, pun\u00e2nd la cale mici afaceri, povestind \u00eent\u00e2mpl\u0103ri banale de peste zi sau, for\u0163\u00e2nd viitorul, \u00eembl\u00e2nzesc \u015fi domin\u0103 ziua urm\u0103toare. La un moment dat, pe u\u015f\u0103 intr\u0103, cl\u0103tin\u00e2ndu-se, un tip f\u0103cut parc\u0103 de noapte. Cu toate sim\u0163urile revoltate de cine \u015ftie ce amintire, se \u00eendreapt\u0103 spre un chelner \u015fi-l ia de guler. \u00cel \u00eentreb\u0103 de foarte aproape: &#8211; M\u0103, tu \u015ftii cine sunt eu? Chelnerul, speriat \u015fi derutat, apoi doar derutat, r\u0103spunde c\u0103 \u015ftie. Omul nostru m\u00e2njit cu \u00eentuneric se \u00eentoarce triumf\u0103tor spre asisten\u0163\u0103: &#8211; Auzi\u0163i, cic\u0103 \u015ftie cine sunt. R\u00e2de. Toat\u0103 lumea studiaz\u0103 cu aten\u0163ie fundul paharelor. \u2013 Nu \u015ftii nimic, mai zise \u015fi se puse pe r\u00e2s. \u2013 Nu e\u015fti Cutare? \u00eentreb\u0103 chelnerul \u00eencerc\u00e2nd s\u0103 se desfac\u0103 din str\u00e2nsoarea celuilalt. \u2013 Nu sunt Cutare. \u015ei chiar dac\u0103 a\u015f fi, ce-\u0163i pas\u0103 \u0163ie? \u2013 P\u0103i, nu-mi pas\u0103, r\u0103spunse chelnerul. \u2013 Bine c\u0103 nu-\u0163i pas\u0103, morm\u0103i distrat omul nostru \u015fi se topi \u00een noapte. Dup\u0103 acest incident, perdelele au \u00eenceput din nou s\u0103 absoarb\u0103 lumina \u015fi fumul acestui local lini\u015ftit, \u00een care nimeni nu mai sp\u0103rsese un pahar de c\u00e2\u0163iva ani.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><b>\u00a0<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><b>5. <\/b>Femeia \u00ee\u015fi dezlipi m\u00e2inile de pe caloriferul care agoniza \u00een spatele ei \u015fi se repezi cu o ner\u0103bdare slab mascat\u0103 c\u0103tre telefon. Primi probabil o veste nepl\u0103cut\u0103 care-i topi ner\u0103bdarea \u00eentr-o masc\u0103 de cear\u0103 inert\u0103. \u015ei de calitatea a III-a. Parc\u0103 trecu un veac p\u00e2n\u0103 ce receptorul ajunse \u00een furc\u0103. \u00ce\u015fi f\u0103cu un ceai, privi pierdut\u0103 pe un ziar din care nu \u00een\u0163elese nimic, \u00ee\u015fi aranj\u0103 cele c\u00e2teva c\u0103r\u0163i pe care le avea \u00eentr-o nou\u0103 ordine, ron\u0163\u0103i o grisin\u0103. Apoi se arunc\u0103 din nou spre telefonul care \u0163\u00e2r\u00e2ia ca scos din min\u0163i. Probabil c\u0103 la cel\u0103lalt cap\u0103t era o prieten\u0103, c\u0103ci femeia \u00eenchise dup\u0103 vreo zece minute \u015fi se \u00eendrept\u0103 spre calorifer v\u0103dit mul\u0163umit\u0103. Dup\u0103 ce se \u00eenc\u0103lzi, privi spre fereastr\u0103, convins\u0103 c\u0103 prim\u0103vara n-o s\u0103 mai vin\u0103. O z\u0103pad\u0103 apoas\u0103 \u015fi maculat\u0103 era aruncat\u0103 de colo-colo de ro\u0163ile ma\u015finilor. Un c\u00e2ine jig\u0103rit se \u0163inea cu \u00eenc\u0103p\u0103\u0163\u00e2nare dup\u0103 un b\u0103tr\u00e2nel\u00a0 asem\u0103n\u0103tor, dar antipatic pentru c\u0103-l amenin\u0163a intermitent cu un baston preistoric. \u201e \u00cen ora\u015ful \u0103sta n-ai loc de c\u00e2ini \u015fi de pensionari\u201d \u2013 zise cu glas tare femeia \u015fi se apropie din nou de zeul care se zb\u00e2rlea\u00a0 zgomotos pe mas\u0103. \u00cen sf\u00e2r\u015fit, se destinse, se transform\u0103 \u00een pisic\u0103, \u00ee\u015fi aranj\u0103 fusta, f\u0103cu o mie de alte gesturi care spuneau c\u0103 vorbea cu un b\u0103rbat. Dar nu cu unul oarecare, ci chiar cu actualul. \u00cenchise. \u00ce\u015fi debran\u015f\u0103 zeul din marele circuit \u015fi se puse pe a\u015fteptat. Cred c\u0103 \u015fi-acum a\u015fteapt\u0103.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\"><b>6. <\/b>Omul nostru-\u015fi sugea cu pl\u0103cere por\u0163ia lui de cer. \u00centins \u00een iarb\u0103, cu fa\u0163a-n sus, ca-n toate povestirile serioase scrise p\u00e2n\u0103 la mine, omul nostru-\u015fi sugea, cum am mai spus, por\u0163ia lui de cer. Era, trebuie s-o recunoa\u015ftem, o por\u0163ie cum probabil \u015fi-un \u00eemp\u0103rat \u015fi-ar fi dorit. Dar, dintr-un petec de cer apropiat, deodat\u0103, deasupra omului nostru cobor\u00ee o insect\u0103 uria\u015f\u0103, care-l avertiz\u0103 elegant: \u201eAcum te voi m\u00e2nca negre\u015fit!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\u015ei l-a m\u00e2ncat.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>1. Se desc\u0103l\u0163\u0103 gr\u0103bit \u015fi-mi ar\u0103t\u0103 pe piciorul st\u00e2ng ceva. \u2013 Ce-i asta? \u00eel \u00eentreb nedumerit. \u2013 Nu \u015ftiu. O vrei? \u015ei <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":364,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[30,44],"tags":[],"coauthors":[75],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/gheorghe_dobre.png","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4rsGx-5R","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/363"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=363"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/363\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":365,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/363\/revisions\/365"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/364"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=363"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=363"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=363"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/coauthors?post=363"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}