Ultima oara cand am vizitat-o pe mamaia, avea mintea limpede si privirea melancolica. Avea 92 de ani.

Am stat ore intregi de vorba cu ea la masa din curte, din fata bucatariei, sub ciresul tanar.

I-am povestit despre viata mea, despre maruntisuri si filosofii. Ma asculta cu atentia, din cand in cand isi oprea mana dreapta din tremurat cu mana stanga, apoi ma privea pe furis sa se asigure ca nu am observat.

Era din ce in ce mai tacuta, dormea mult si nu mai putea sa se miste bine. Cu toate astea insista sa mearga in baston sa dea de mancare gainilor, sa mature fostul grajd, sa faca visinata.

Am simtit de pe-atunci ca va fi ultima oara cand o voi vedea. Mamaia este copilaria mea, primii mei 7 ani din viata i-am trait in totalitate in Crivina, cu ea si tataia. Ei m-au invatat cum sa dau cu sapa, sa matur, sa culeg struguri, sa nu-mi fie teama de viermii din mar, sa alerg prin porumb, sa fac foc si sa merg la colindat. Nu am nici macar o memorie trista din acea perioada din viata mea, numai bucurie si libertate, comuniune cu natura, veri lungi si vorbe de iubire.


Bunica mea a murit ieri.

Aceasta este o serie de fotografii facute in ultima vizita la mamaia.





The last time I saw my grandmother she had a clear mind and melancholic eyes.

She was 92 years old.

We talked for hours at the table in the garden, in front of the kitchen, under the young cherry tree.

I told her about my life, we talked small subjects and deep philosophies. She was listening to me with great attention, from time to time she would stop her right hand from trembling with her left hand, then she would secretly look at me to make sure I didn’t notice that unfortunate clue of her old age.

She was quieter and quieter, she slept much more and she could hardly move. She never complained about her heavy pain, on the contrary she would insist to feed the chickens herself, to sweep the old stable, to make the best cherry brandy in the world.

I felt since then that it was the last time I would see her.

My grandmother is my childhood, my first 7 years of life I spent in Crivina with her and my grandfather. They taught me how to sweep, to collect the grapes, not to be afraid of the worms in the apples, to love animals, to run in the corn, to make a fire and Carol. I have no sad memories from that period in my life, only adventures, love and freedom.


My grandmother died yesterday.

This is a series I did when visiting her for the last time.

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