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insemnare de jurnal – Vânare de vânt
https://paulgsandu.wordpress.com/2015/03/12/insemnare-de-jurnal
March 12, 2015. La vânătoare de vânt (Ganduri. A creature called time. One thought on “ insemnare de jurnal. March 15, 2015 at 9:26 AM. Cenușă a sufletelor care ș-au ars trăirea pe o coală albă. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out. Notify me of new comments via email. Cu si despre mine.
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A asculta linistea – Vânare de vânt
https://paulgsandu.wordpress.com/2015/06/08/a-asculta-linistea
June 8, 2015. Posted in La vânătoare de vânt (Ganduri. Everything i could remember. 2 thoughts on “ A asculta linistea. June 8, 2015 at 1:05 PM. Superbă linişte pe care o auzi. să ştii că s-a răspândit🙂. dar pere-se că avem fiecare o muzică interioară care e capabilă să răspundă acesteia pe care o ascultăm! Pingback: Gangureli filozofice. Note extrase din volumul Principia monadologica, de G. W. Newton von Leibniz ABSURD. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Address never made public).
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confesiune – Vânare de vânt
https://paulgsandu.wordpress.com/2015/04/04/confesiune
April 4, 2015. September 2, 2015. Primesc, acum ceva vreme, un scurt text. De la un bun prieten. Textul e asezat, frumusel, intre ghilimele – deh, prietenului meu ii place sa se autociteze. (Banuiesc ca e si asta o forma de orgoliu). M-am abtinut cu mare greu sa nu-i spun: “vai ce prostie ai scris! 8211; textul cu pricina pe una dintre ele. Asadar eu eram autorul! Posted in La vânătoare de vânt (Ganduri. A creature called time. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Cu si despre mine. Enter...
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a creature called time – Vânare de vânt
https://paulgsandu.wordpress.com/2015/04/03/a-creature-called-time
April 3, 2015. A creature called time. It’s the mornings when i feel it the most. The heavy shadow of years past. Growing threateningly like a deamon’s wings. I feel older than the universe. With every breath of air that forces itself into my lungs. Like a resolute woman trying a pair of shoes. Too small to fit her. Sometimes it feels like I am breathing you. All naked, with your smile filling my windpipes. Like forgotten notes of a chopin nocturne. Being slowly downloaded into my blood. Notify me of new...