Monday, 26 December 2016


   While I’m waiting and the sky is sinking into twilight, my thoughts are drifting, reflecting shadows from my own past. Meanwhile, a second pair of eyes seems to be watching me from behind. Yet, they are also my own eyes… I feel like living two parallel existences at the same time. I’m here, but also in a remote location, sailing over stormy waves across the ocean. I can even experience for a moment the salty smell of the sea water. How can my body be in two different places at once? Then, as quickly as it came, the strange sensation of being connected directly with another person and place is gone.

  Swimming inside the fuzzy memories of my childhood, I pick up self reflections from old times. They are materializing into the outline of a shy kid, fascinated by the nebulous, mysterious worlds hidden in the Earth’s thin, rocky crust. Back then, I would often spend long hours searching for caves in the ridges covered with the green-blue shadows of the pines and spruces that surrounded my village in a giant, still embrace. Year after year I would find little caverns, some only a few steps deep, others extending for tens of meters. Most of them were dug in lime by temporary water streams, born after millennia of hidden work from summer rains or hatched by the periodic melting of the snow in the spring. The never resting water was the invisible architect for all.

(excerpt from "Butterfly's Dream", a novel by Marian C. Ghilea)

Saturday, 24 December 2016

A portrait

   A few moments later we are both inside a store full of elegant garments from China, painted in vivid, intricate patterns of red, green, and blue. A long bench is lining the right side while a massive mahogany counter dominates the room on the left. A couple of tall, arched windows, mark the back wall. A large painting hangs above the counter. It’s the portrait of a beautiful young woman holding a rose in her hand and smiling. Long black hair is spread behind her shoulders, framing a beautifully oval face with pale skin, arched eyebrows, big dark eyes, full lips, and a delicate nose. I have the feeling I have seen her somewhere before, but I cannot recall where exactly.

(excerpt from "Butterfly's Dream", a novel by Marian C. Ghilea) 

Wednesday, 21 December 2016

Butterfly's Dream

   Timeless and mysterious like a beautiful woman, the Island lured and enchanted the imagination of many nations. Her main urban center, dominating the sea from the high slopes of a rocky shore, displayed the elegant and stern style of the Greek cities from Antiquity. The locals, almost all looking young and handsome, lived in massive buildings two or three stories high, made of blue and pink marble blocks, decorated with Doric columns and often wrapped in green ivy tendrils. Streets paved with hexagonal blocks were intersecting each other at right angles, dividing the city in regular segments.

    At well defined intervals, plazas with silver wells and exotic trees filled the space with even more color and diversity. Tall ivory towers, made of an unknown type of stone, guarded the metropolis at its fringes. Yet, more than anything, the gold, available in unbelievable quantities, attracted, like a powerful magnet, people from everywhere. The gold, in various alloys, made up the roof tiles, the doors and windows frames and hinges, the plates and cups, most tools, some weapons, and pretty much everything that needed to use a cheap metal on the Island.

   In spite of having this place being called in one way or another by different cultures who entered and left the center stage of the history, the names faded away under the relentless flow of time. The only name left was the simple, even trivial appellation of “The Island”. You are not going to see the Island on any map, be it old or contemporary. When setting sail across the vast rough seas, people only knew her approximate direction and no one could say exactly how big or how far she was. Still hundreds of kilometers away from her beaches, the ships’ compasses would start spinning quickly, the constellations would appear completely changed, and the Sun would seem to rise and set every day from a different direction.

(excerpt from "Butterfly's Dream", a novel by Marian C. Ghilea)