{"id":707,"date":"2014-08-25T03:42:25","date_gmt":"2014-08-25T03:42:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/?p=707"},"modified":"2014-08-25T03:42:25","modified_gmt":"2014-08-25T03:42:25","slug":"nuta-istrate-gangan","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/nuta-istrate-gangan\/","title":{"rendered":"Nu\u021ba Istrate Gangan"},"content":{"rendered":"

C\u00e2nd eram copil \u00eemi pl\u0103cea s\u0103 merg cu ai mei la vie doar ca s\u0103 culeg melci.<\/span><\/p>\n

Viile de la Matca erau pe dealul acela pe care-l z\u0103ream din curte atunci c\u00e2nd m\u0103 urcam pe prisp\u0103. Deal care\u00a0 avea o gur\u0103 uria\u0219\u0103 sub forma unei r\u00e2pi ro\u0219cate, imense.<\/span><\/p>\n

C\u00e2nd soarele era deasupra r\u00e2pei, lutul ro\u0219u se \u00eenro\u0219ea \u0219i mai tare \u0219i, ori de c\u00e2te ori treceam pe acolo, culegeam flori nemuritoare(un fel de flori aspre, mov, care tr\u0103iau f\u0103r\u0103 ap\u0103) \u0219i luam \u00een m\u00e2n\u0103 un bulg\u0103re de p\u0103m\u00e2nt sf\u0103r\u00e2micios. Mirosea a reav\u0103n.<\/span><\/p>\n

,,\u0103sta-i p\u0103m\u00e2nt bun de c\u0103r\u0103mizi, spunea tata,,<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00centre deal \u0219i \u0219osea se construise un fel de san\u021b c\u0103ptu\u0219it cu ciment, pentru ca apa ploilor s\u0103-\u0219i g\u0103seasc\u0103 vad. Dar nu-mi amintesc ca vreodat\u0103 s\u0103 fi v\u0103zut \u0219an\u0163urile acelea pline cu ap\u0103,\u00a0 de\u0219i ploi ca la Matca copil\u0103riei mele numai \u00een Florida am \u00eent\u00e2lnit.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melcii, mari, mult mai mari dec\u00e2t aceia pe care \u00eei vedeam pe cimentul casei uneori, se t\u00e2rau lene\u0219i \u0219i umezi, cu ochii ca dou\u0103 puncte \u00een v\u00e2rful coarnelor boiere\u0219ti, niciodat\u0103 boure\u0219ti, cum am aflat mai t\u00e2rziu, \u0219i eu, de\u0219i aveam un fel se sentiment de \u00ee\u00ee\u00eehhh <\/em>c\u00e2nd \u00eei atingeam, \u00eei adunam, \u00eei puneam \u00eentr-o pung\u0103 \u0219i \u00eei luam acas\u0103.<\/span><\/p>\n

,,Iar m\u00e2nje\u0219ti prispa de balele lor, \u00eemi spunea maic\u0103-mea, care m\u0103 \u00eenv\u0103\u0163ase s\u0103 arunc o can\u0103 de ap\u0103 dup\u0103 melc \u0219i s\u0103 frec apoi cu o m\u0103tur\u0103 ciobit\u0103, urma cleioas\u0103.<\/span><\/p>\n

Eu \u00eei luam acas\u0103, \u00eei puneam pe prisp\u0103 \u0219i le c\u00e2ntam p\u00e2n\u0103 c\u00e2nd se plictisea \u0219i pisica. Unii, ascult\u0103tori, ie\u0219eau din cochilie \u0219i \u00eemi cercetau orbi buricele curioase ale degetelor. Atingem corni\u0163ele fragile \u0219i ele se retr\u0103geau speriate, ca apoi sa r\u0103sar\u0103 iar \u0219i iar.<\/span><\/p>\n

Odat\u0103 am fost curioas\u0103 s\u0103 v\u0103d cum arat\u0103 un melc f\u0103r\u0103 cas\u0103. \u0219i cu acela\u0219i sentiment de \u00ee\u00ee\u00eehhh<\/em> am luat o piatr\u0103 \u0219i am lovit u\u0219or cochilia unuia care nu mai r\u0103spundea la c\u00e2ntat.<\/span><\/p>\n

N-am reu\u0219it mare lucru, am omor\u00e2t doar din nou un melc deja mort. De foame, de plictiseal\u0103, nu \u0219tiu… Poate chiar nu-i pl\u0103cea s\u0103-\u0219i scoat\u0103 coarnele boiere\u0219ti la comanda unei pu\u0219toaice pistruiate \u0219i insistente.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00cen aceea\u0219i vie, peste c\u00e2\u0163iva ani, o \u00eentrebam pe mama: ,,Ai vorbit cu tata, m\u0103 las\u0103 s\u0103 plec la \u0219coal\u0103?,,<\/span><\/p>\n

,,Mai e p\u00e2n\u0103 la anu’,las\u0103, vezi c\u0103 ai l\u0103sat un ciorchine la butucu’ acela,,.<\/span><\/p>\n

Eram prin gimnaziu, uram cu pasiune munca p\u0103m\u00e2ntului, \u00eenv\u0103\u021b\u0103toarea mea din clasa \u00eent\u00e2ia murise subit la 42 de ani, timpul se scurgea ca un melc iar p\u0103rin\u021bii mei considerau c\u0103 \u0219coala ,,nu e bun\u0103 de nimic,,<\/span><\/p>\n

Ieri, cineva pe un post de televiziune a citit o poezie de-a mea \u00een care ,,vorbesc foarte u\u0219or despre moarte, de parc\u0103 am mai murit de c\u00e2teva ori,,<\/span><\/p>\n

Reporterul a z\u00e2mbit \u0219i a remarcat c\u0103, ironic, spun ca nu ar trebui s\u0103 ne temem de o no\u021biune \u0219i c\u0103 mai bine ar fi s\u0103 ne facem moartea aliat \u00een toate experien\u021bele noastre de zi cu zi.<\/span><\/p>\n

Am z\u00e2mbit \u0219i eu, cu un fel de am\u0103r\u0103ciune, amintindu-mi c\u0103 de fapt a muri nu \u00eenseamn\u0103 numai a muri \u0219i c\u0103 am murit o dat\u0103 sau de dou\u0103 ori \u00eentr-o fost\u0103 via\u0163\u0103 de melc f\u0103r\u0103 cochilie.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u0219i, de\u0219i copil\u0103ria mea nu a avut mor\u0163i foarte importan\u0163i \u00een ea(dac\u0103 nu ar fi s\u0103 lu\u0103m \u00een considerare ni\u0219te bunici ni\u021bel indiferen\u021bi), atunci c\u00e2nd m\u0103 g\u00e2ndesc la moarte m\u0103 \u00eentorc, ciudat, extrem de ciudat, \u00een copil\u0103rie.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00centr-o copil\u0103rie la care, de altfel, nu m-a\u0219 \u00eentoarce prea des.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

C\u00e2nd eram copil \u00eemi pl\u0103cea s\u0103 merg cu ai mei la vie doar ca s\u0103 culeg melci. Viile de la Matca erau <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":708,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[30],"tags":[],"coauthors":[75],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/Untitled-13.png","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4rsGx-bp","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/707"}],"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=707"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/707\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":709,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/707\/revisions\/709"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/708"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=707"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=707"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=707"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/coauthors?post=707"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}