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I cannot write because I have no personal experienceI lied too much, I lived in too many bodiesfrom my imagination I somewhat loved stagecoach driversmen with long fingers, ballet dancers through history,I invented all with lucidity, systematically, although I was afraidI

In the summer of 1982, as I was saying an emotional good-bye at Floria Capsali's deathbed, the whole mournful world felt we were witnessing the end of a living legend of Romanian dancing. Indeed, for over half a century (she was born in 1900 in the town of Bitolia,

choreologist  Bodily motion, coupled with human voice, both cardinal attributes complementing the complex entity that is a human being, with its entire array of phenomena. Gullet and gate may betray certain clues leading us to the character or temperament of an individual.

A first attempt at collecting in a book texts on personalities of Romanian dance or who have spent a decisive stage in their formation within the framework and in the atmosphere of a Romanian school is bound to be controversial. Although partial and subjective, the present

excerpt THUNDERSTRUCK A few days after having met George Enescu on the road to Peleş, after dinner, I was on my divan smoking a fragrant oriental cigarette next to Princess Maria, resplendent in her long, pink veils; she was knitting without seeing the work, in the semidarkness

After a half-century's wait, in 2000 Aristarc Publishers from Oneşti released a bilingual (French-Romanian) volume by Maria Cantacuzino-Enescu: Ombres et lumières / Umbre şi lumini. Souvenirs d'une Princesse Moldave / Amintirile unei Prinţese Moldave, 926 pages,

Hear the waves rise and fall – memento twilight – the cradle is rocking lonelinesses cricket-heart forgotten in the grasssmall fear – barely startling– the blood falls in the arteries The shells of snails inhabited by the windfootsteps on inner stairs – we resume

A man is sleeping on a bench in front of the sanatoriumhe's been waiting for his folks like manna from heavenwhite and coiled upfrom the valley he seems to mea lamb biting into the green woodI could go near him, call himjolt him, hug himbut he took everyone out of spaceand

…And I walk in my memories as in a deep wood…there I find people like leafy treesand so many things unhappened to othersand walls built on mysteriesand old parks asleepand statues of silenceand masks molded in wax:a world of mine, a world I grew up in,and learned what

I dreamt we werearound a stone tablewith men long-forgotten –I was there yet absentnonexistent yet alivedrinking with them yet dying with thirst.  Something white fellon the stone tableilluminating our facessomething always putting to shamethe inability to grow.  We

An attentive look upon the history of great literature will reveal a few examples of true love consumed between creators and their inspiring Muses, most often devouring passions that gave birth to unforgettable literary heroes and heroines. Perhaps the most controversial

There are masterpieces of musical drama the destiny of which became final in the history of opera owing to singers with a flash of genius. Seemingly, this is how Puccini's Tosca was born, whose protagonist, a superb Romanian soprano from Brăila, lend brilliancy to