Joc de primăvară

martie 31, 2015


Lumina îşi schimbă culoarea.

Umbrele lungi căzură de pe garduri.


Nori obraznici rîd în zare,

Vîntul buzna dă prin case,

Rufe roz de fir legate

Dănțuie înspăimîntate.

Muguri tineri şi pufoşi

Zgribuliți, întorşi pe dos

Fulgi năprasnici cad în.. sus,

Glugi umflate-lăbărțate

Peste capete-nclinate

Nostalgii nelegănate… Iarna-i ici,

vara-i departe.



Pe ferestrele deschise,

Primăvara a fugit

Şi aleargă descălțată

De un nor înspăimîntată.


Cu pisica după gît,

sorb din ceai

rămîn năuc.



„Am adresat unor scriitori, poeti, dramaturgi, istorici si critici literari, profesori universitari, intrebarea: ,,De ce mai scrieti, într-o vreme în care nici macar scriitorii nu se (prea) citesc unii pe altii?” Raspunsurile sunt minunate…”


The eight-hour day

martie 22, 2015

„The eight-hour day, a norm that is still under challenge 150 years later, was first achieved by Melbourne stonemasons in 1855, though it was not established more generally, even in Australia, until the early 20th century. The weekend, making Saturday as well as Sunday a day of leisure, came even later, around the middle of the 20th century in most developed countries.

We need a vision of a genuinely better society. For this reason, the time is right to re-examine Keynes’s vision of a future where economic scarcity, real or perceived, no longer dominates life as it does today.

Read the entire article here:



solar-eclipse-poland-310:30am – 11:00am (Gmt+1) ,Southern Poland

Partial solar eclipse observed in Poland through magnetic tape of a computer disk.

Career evolution

martie 18, 2015

Programming is hard but:


I did it long enough so it began

                         to make sense.

I did it long enough so it begun

                       to be interesting.

Then, I kept doing it until

it bacame easy.

I did it long, very long, until,

it became boring.

Then, I carried on doing it until

it bacame frustrating.

Then, I did it so long that

it became hard again.

It guess I passed my chance to be good at it.



martie 13, 2015

Când ei te vor
pentru ceea ce eşti,
omul lor tu te numeşti;
Idei alese să serveşti,
Continuă! nici nu gândeşti,
tu eşti acela ce greşeşti.
Căci numai peste-acele vise care
ți se potrivesc şi par a tale
eşti liber să domneşti.


„We have certain work to do for our bead, and that is to be done strenuously; other work to do for our delight, and that is to be done heartily: neither is to be done by halves and shifts, but with a will; and what is not worth this effort is not to be done at all. Perhaps all that wave to do is meant for nothing more than an exercise of the heart and of the will, and is useless in itself; but, at all events, the little use it has it may be spared if it is not worth putting our hands and our strength to. …  There is dreaming enough, and earthiness enough, and sensuality enough in human existence, without our turning the few glowing moments of it into mechanism; and since our life must at the best be but a vapour that appears for a little time and then vanishes away, let it at least appear as a cloud in the height of Heaven, not as the thick darkness that broods over the blast of the Furnace, and rolling of the Wheel.”

8 Martie

martie 8, 2015


Probing the subjects

martie 3, 2015

Today I felt like taking pictures and when I say that, I mean I felt like I have the balls to stop in the middle of the road, point the camera at the faces close to me and shoot. Some kind of urge of reckless behavior that doesn’t visit me too often .

Tuesdays are busy days in our little town. It’s market day and people of all calibers fill up quietly the quiet stage. The winter shook its coats once again today, entering the postlude of a capricious winter. So no mood for roaming unfettered between stands.

As I walked towards the market I got the camera out from my bag and I was ready for action. In the distance I saw something which could be of interest so I devised my plan. A few seconds later I posted myself close to a bus stop full of people, I pointed the camera and I took a shot. No reaction. I arranged the zoom for a wider angle and  I took another picture. It felt good. The whole action lasted less than five seconds and I was on my way again.


With swell confidence I proceeded to the market place and I took a few random pictures on the way, just to warm up.






netcurtains-maintaining-the-privacyMaintaining the privacy


I got to a stand with nicely stacked bread and I took a shot of it with the two guys selling it in the background. One of them objected and asked me to delete the picture. I refused. He got annoyed and came next to me and from what I understood he threatened(?) to call the police because I am not allowed to take pictures of anyone’s face without permission. Fair point. (Or is it!?) I invited him, in my broken polish (sorry about my English too) to call the police which should be able to tell me whether I am allowed or not to take pictures of people in a public place such as the local market. I continued my stroll around the market waiting for the police to arrive when I see The Baker and a market security man walking toward me. We got into a conversation but couldn’t establish whether I am entitled to keep or not the picture containing The Baker’s face. (The picture had not yet been used in any way!)

While they were discussing I changed my mind. The picture didn’t have much value anyway and, to settle the argument, I decided to delete the picture. Why? Police would not arrest me for this. In worst case they’d ask me to show my identification which I did not carry with me, not when going to buy potatoes. I still want to go to this market without any grudge against me. So I showed the guy I deleted his picture and tried to explain how I see it. Business is public, your product is public, the street is a public place. The market couldn’t be more public. Your thoughts and actions may not be public but your face, is. Otherwise,  zostać w domu!


A few other men stopped. They were not carry shopping bags. Puzzled looks. I assume they were trying to understand what was going on. Stern faces – perhaps sellers from other stands in the market were not entirely accepting my arguments, all the same curious about the verdict. Can their faces along with their products be photographed by.. Nobody? Another younger merchant seeing that I offered to delete the baker’s picture he asked me to also delete the picture of his lorry packed with  bags of carrots and potatoes. Why did I took that picture? To probe the subjects of my little town. His face was not in the picture. I deleted it anyway.

I still wanted to find out whether I am or not allowed to take pictures of the market and the people in it so the security guy took me (invited me? obliged me? Hard to tell.) to their office to talk to his superior. We are in Poland. Writing these words two hours later, my moving from the market to the security office does not seem so voluntary anymore and I don’t know why. And this post seems more like a declaration. Nevertheless it helps me remember the details of the event.

The superior explained, as I was kind of expecting it, that I can take pictures as long as the faces of people are not in them. Fine.

What really bothers me now is that they asked me to show what other pictures I took and if I have any identification with me. I do not remember whether out of a genuine desire to add to my personal photographic collection I offered them to show what I have in my camera or they asked me to do that. The fact that I do not speak very well their language makes it difficult to recall this important aspect. And, even more annoyingly important, are they entitled to ask me to give them my name and address? With nothing to hide of course I gave it. But, do security men have the authority to ask for identification? I know they have been put there to solve conflict in the market and protect commerce but shouldn’t my identity, on this instance be treated as private since The Baker got his picture deleted from my camera and didn’t press charges? I mean, how short is the road from taking street pictures to being questioned for it?


With five polish apples in my bag, I took one more picture of a national polish costume and I left the market. Today I gave some people something to talk about. Shame it’s only a few.

I’m sitting at my desk looking outside… For a few minutes large snowflakes frolicked in the air… Should I expect a visit?

On my way home other stories awaited to be packed in a few millions pixels. A film camera might have got me in trouble. And, when I was convinced there’s nothing left for me in this little town to take pictures of, a whole new world opens up.






I was considering myself a photographer or rather and observer of life. Today I learned that life photography ain’t only about split moments, lines, shapes and shadows. Perhaps a degree in journalistics would have instructed me to respect the faces on the street and ask for permission before shooting. Would I really want that? The lesson here is: discretion. But I’m not sure I always want that either.


Update 04.03.2015: On the same car park where the Tuesday market takes place  I was surprised to see on a Saturday morning two or three weeks ago this small group of not sure what to call them… pseudo-soldiers?


Update 23.03.2015: The answer came later keeping an eye on the news: