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Biography And Bibliography

by Alexandru A. Popovici

Humanism And Science

by Alexandru A. Popovici

When Ornaments Go Walking

by Erwin Kessler

How Modern Is the Modern Romanian Fantastic?

As everything modern, the fantastic mode, which seems to be still one of our great favorites in these last years of the modern millennium is to be defined through the series of transformations of the traditional forms of the fantastic art. In her excellent reference book

The Game

by Mircea Cărtărescu (b. 1956)

The Vesper Bell

by Mihail Sadoveanu (1880-1961)

The Sorrowful Dionis

by Mihai Eminescu (1850-1889)

6 Jun 2007 - 24 Jun 2007

Primul Festival de Cinema Românesc în Portugalia

Institutul Cultural Român din Lisabona, împreună cu Asociaţia FilmeCouture din Portugalia, organizează, în perioada 6-24 iunie 2007, un Festival de Cinema Românesc. Manifestarea, o premieră în Portugalia, se va desfăşura, succesiv, în trei dintre cele mai importante

16 Sep 2008 - 20 Sep 2008

INTERNATIONAL SUMMER SCHOOL on MRI and MRS

EDUCATIONAL OBJECTIVES Upon completion of the Summer School, participants should be able to: • Complete their understanding of the basic principles of Magnetic Resonance Imaging and Localized Spectroscopy • Become more familiar with the instrumentation used in

Yesterday Will Be Another Day

I wonder if nature always plays the same game (Einstein) Of course I was coming from sleep, how else is a day supposed to start? However, I didn't know much about the world I was coming from. On the other hand, the world I had landed in should have been very familiar

The Book Of The Millionaire: I. The Book Of Metopolis

(from: Chapter 5 - The Map of Metopolis Scaled 1:1; Chapter 4 - The Rail Car of the Millionaire, and from At the Armenian's Tavern and Once Again at the Armenian's Tavern - Chapters 3 and 6) If you are far, far away from the city and take a completely different

The Impossible Oasis

The wire that I had failed to see hit me below my knees. The earth turned, the boles propped against the stars somersaulted and I no longer heard the whistles. The red bells started to toll. Whipped up by the rain, the smell of weed and death that had simply been the breath