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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2012-07-05 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
I remember tinted images
yellow and stained in old wooden frames. The glass was scratched and wavy. They sat on a table next to a lamp painted with naked cherubs. The couch and chairs were covered in plastic. I never asked why. One day my father spilled his beer no one panicked and I understood. There were stories after dinner with coffee and cigarettes. I was young and don't recall them now. We don't tell stories after dinner; no one smokes anymore. I have pictures in polished frames. My couch is stained and the chairs are worn. On a table next to the lamp the one with naked cherubs are the tinted images in the old wooden frames. When the lamp is lit I can see myself in the glass.
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