by Octavian Balea
A conductor on top of a mountain feeding his body with the molten lava of the depth and getting his precious fluids from the mineral water springs. His eyes are made of quartz and his hands are as soft as the moss growing on heavy boulders of granite. His voice is like the thunder and his music comes from the tips of his fingers like an unforgiving avalanche crushing over the young fragile birch trees. His jaws are carved from the finest steel by the world's most skilled ironsmiths. His will is imaculate like italian marble and between his powerful arms he holds the whole weight of the humankind's expectations.
His spirit is like wind. His image of music is like wind.
Si te-ai tinut de cuvant pana la urma Tavi ... imi plac povestile ... imbraca fotografiile foarte bine ... Astept o fotografie de a ta in postura de D'Artagnan :), pentru ca consider ca ti se potriveste postura :)
ReplyDeletehehe! Prefer in postura de Celibidache :))
ReplyDelete