The light at the end of the storm

I was born a long time ago in Romania. Although my parents have initially agreed to help me in pursuing my love for the arts by enrolling me in the School of music and arts in Baia Mare, later on they have made it clear that living from art was not a realistic option so, I took their advice and got a Master's degree in Electronics and Telecommunications. I had an intesersing career in Romania, where I worked in a Research Institute, writing 35 research papers and working on several very challenging projects. When the Communist regime collapsed in 1989 and the savage capitalism started showing its ugly face in Romania, I took the opportunity to leave to fill the skills shortage in Australia. I lived for the last 17 years in Adelaide, where I've used my skills and talents to design home appliances. I've also used my Project Management skills to help the Great Move to China of the Australian Manufacturing Industry. As a result of my successfyul activities, I 've found myself several times made redundant (which was the aim of the game, I guess). On May the 1st the French company I worked for has allowed me to pursue my life long passion for the arts. I am doing this with my well known enthusiasm and energy. For me, there is no return. This time, I will continue pursuing my dream until the end of my life.I paint daily, I have quite a few blogs related to painting. I have a solo show in July, I have an open studio as part of the SALA festival and I am organising the Outsiders Festival in Adelaide in October (or November) this year. The financial side of things is still to be sorted out, but I am working very hard on it. I have drastically reduced my expenses and I am looking at innovative ways to saving money. I would be grateful if, after reading this, you could help. I have placed donation buttons on my blogs, or, if you prefer, you can buy my art. There are several convenient ways you can do that. Just folow the links on http://www.stefanmaguran.blogspot.com/
Thank you, in advance.

Another storm

From time to time, I stir my tea with a teaspoon-I create storms.

They met in High School. He loved her vitality, she was happy with his silence.
They married while at Uni, in the beginning it was hard, like any marriage, they were fights, discontent, expectations and disappointments.
But they loved each other.
It was a challenge, busy all day, to work, queuing for food. They saw each other little, ate together, went to bed, then it all started again.

Shortly after they got married, the kids were born.

A daily joy.
Then, they agreed that things won’t change soon in Romania, went to Germany to work in the vineyards, and made enough money to move to Australia.

It was hard and nice.

The kids grew, settled down.

They continued to love each other in their loneliness.

And lived happily ever after.

From time to time, I stir my tea with a teaspoon-I create storms.
But it does not always work.

Touched by a bird

The third storm

From time to time, I stir with the teaspoon in a teacup-I create storms.

"What did you want me to do; I wasn’t going to destroy my career for her. I had to turn her in since she was so dumb as to get involved with those drug addicts...”

The Doctor extinguished his cigarette on the table next to his patient and closed the wound.

- Let's play tennis.

Since becoming a specialist, he played tennis a lot.

He had to do it, as he could not fit into the clothes he had bought less than a year before.

On the way, the traffic got on his nerves, so he started driving on the wrong side of the road, on the tramline. At 100 km per hour, the Audi 6 moved surprisingly graciously alongside the row of cars, brushing past the horrified pedestrians looking on from the refuges.

He forced an entry into the lane, then turned right, stopped suddenly in front of the mansion, jumped out of the car and entered the house.

He changed quickly throwing his clothes on the floor and walked to the tennis court out the back.

In the swimming pool Eva swam graciously. Her white skin made him slow down. Her long legs and superb breasts made him sigh.

"Tonight," he said to himself.

The court was hidden from passers-by by massive hedges.

He started the warm-up and felt that he needed something to drink.

He went back inside:

- Who left the door open? Eva, is it you?"

In the kitchen, in front of him, with an axe in her hand, it was her:

"You jerk!" was the last thing he heard.
"When disaster strikes", I say and stir in my teacup.

The second storm

From time to time, I stir with the teaspoon in a teacup-I create storms.

All his life he wanted to be noticed. Since high school he had hoped that one day someone would come and propose to him to collaborate.
Then in college, his friend talked about his meetings with Burlacu and he implored him to arrange their meeting. The meeting never happened.

He was uninteresting. He wasn’t brilliant, adventurous or intelligent and, furthermore, lacked subtlety. He screwed up too often.

After finishing Uni, he found a quiet job in a research Institute, doing mostly nothing.

One day, a colleague of his saw him filling in a form and asked:
- You too?
Then he saw a recruitment form on his colleague’s desk. In was an application to become an informant.

For him it was not to be.
He had a totally different form.

Then came the Revolution.

For a short while he felt relieved – there was a God! Thank God that I was not recruited!
Christmas Holidays, happiness.

After the few skirmishes and a few years of him selling almost anything, Romania entered Europe and it was announced that everyone could see their files collected by the former Communist regime.

As he had plenty of time, he queued for days and, in the end, got to see his dossier.

The reading revealed how many people had been interested in his life... Including Burlacu...

Attached to Burlacu’s reports, he could clearly see his application, signed by him and approved by Burlacu.

"When disaster strikes", I say and stir in my teacup.

Storm in a teacup

From time to time, I stir with the teaspoon in a teacup - I create storms. Mirela hung herself on the day that her father was arrested at the institute where he worked. The two events had no connection, except that the two people involved were related.

Mirela fell in love with a boy in her class, and he refused to take her out. Simple, clear. Mirela decided that life was not worth Living. With her father Nicky, the situation was a bit more delicate. He had worked for several years in an institute, he had had some luck and some friends, so he lead a quiet and comfortable life. The institute was in an old house close to Cişmigiu, the park in the middle of Bucharest. He worked in an office with two draftswomen. Being a pretty nice guy, always attentive with women, he had been able to impose an ideal program. Every morning he brewed the coffee for all, they had the coffee until about ten o’clock, and then he went for a walk on the boulevard, watched a movie, had lunch wherever he wished and got back at the office with cake for the women. They had more coffee in the afternoon and then he had a nap on his desk until the end of the day. Then he went home. As his wife worked late, he ate what his mother-in-law cooked in the morning, and fell asleep on the couch, trying to read Cenini, while waiting for his wife to get home. As she got home, he waited for her to change her clothes and eat something, then, like the French, went either to the theatre, or to a dance, a restaurant, or a movie. He liked to feel French, although never managed to learn much of the language. During this time, Mirela lived with her grandmother, as it was closer to her school. She slept in the same bed with her aunt, an accountant at a small cooperative. Every evening, her aunt went to dance. She put on one of her gorgeous pairs of shoes. She had so many shoes... On the day she hung herself, Mirela lived with her parents in an apartment. They moved in an apartment block and were extremely happy. Mirela loved to be alone in the morning at home, as she was able to sleep as long as she wanted. However, she went to school quite regularly, and, as her parents left her alone when she got good marks, she was keen to oblige. On the day she hung herself, Mirela did not do her homework at all. One day, Nicky, walking on the boulevard, stopped to look at some Chinese items in a window, bought two glazed silver fishes for his wife, and on the way to Capsa, the famous eating place, he met his old schoolmate – Nelu, a big shot somewhere, as he had heard. - Hey, Nicky, what a pleasure, let’s have a beer – my shout! Nicky was not a great drinker. He was done very quickly. After a few glasses, he saw Nelu as his brother. And as he would to a brother, he told him about the golden coins. "That’s when disaster struck", I say and stir in my teacup.