Adrienn Hucka (Adri)

We did not speak the same language
but we understood each other…
and it was worth it all
merci beacoup

As We Stop, We Continue Moving!

Deleting pages, almost like we do with memories. We go back and forth – and did we stop – chasing rainy clouds? And as we stop we continue moving since we do not believe in farewells.

What kills one, makes one stronger - after all the deaths one suffers...

In the ashes of the past, between the smoke of the burning cigarettes, in the darkness of the night – the senses sharpen, the perception of the world becomes acute… What really makes one rise again and move on? What makes one the new person who carries no burden from before? And how can one wake up and admire the beauty of the day after all the battles one has lost? In the end of the day all that noise (the terrible perturbing buzz of shallow, humble thoughts) does not matter because what kills one makes one stronger! The reflections in the mirror are distorted and what once brought delight is gone. But failure is not an option, denial is not an escape. The thoughts are not going go away unless one decides to live. All the shit will linger but today’s shit is no longer the shit of tomorrow for one should look with different eyes. Once the dirt is gone, after all the deaths one suffers, the day will come to breathe again, to inhale the splendor of tonight.

Thoughts in the cold

When we start thinking, if at all necessary, we may realize that denying does not actually lead to any final statement or conculsion. So does accepting, of course, unfortunately.
May it be that we deny persistently that people are what we need and infuriatingly stubborn we continue to believe that we can be just perfectly fine the way we are – all by ourselves? And in the very moment, as those thoughts are buzzing in our heads, in a search of a human contact, we capture ourselves into the most deadly trap of affection. I wonder why is that? But my thougths are so sluggish that they lag behing my feelings with ages. I cannot escape from my feelings though. I can force myself to think in a direction, you know: “Now, let's think positively” kind-of-fashion. Before I thought I can also do it with the emotions but I just fooled myself for a while, which may actually be a nice device to keep me occupied not to think about other stuff. After all it seems like a lot of thought, ah? No answers yet...

Nothing x 3 = The Snow Man

THE SNOW MAN by WALLACE STEVENS

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

Every time I think about human perceptions I am more than puzzled. Whether ascribing them to or uniqueness as human beings or just giving up the attempt to explain them, the truth is that we are guided by them – we make decisions based on reason but also on senses; we try to foresee if beneath the mundane there is a symbol that our sensitivity will discover and follow. In most of the cases, we completely ignore what we have learned from the books and our experience, relying entirely on the voice inside us. Is there a stronger force hidden deep into every one of us that we subconsciously adhere to?
The poem “The Snow Man” by Wallace Stevens presents that idea of parallel worlds of imagination and reality – the former being the one we can occasionally escape into and the latter, the one that we are confined into. In my own world, I associate myself with every single symbol that I find interesting or indulging for I zealously believe that emotions, feelings, and senses are the ones that matter. I smile when I see the fallen leaves; when the winter wind plays with my hair in the air; when I hear the roar of the sea… I often wondered why I do that and then I realized – “breathing life” into an inanimate object such as a snow man can really be fulfilling.
In my opinion, Wallace Stevens employs the image of a snow man because it indicates how transparent and delicate the barrier between the two worlds is. But what else if not a heap of melting snow is that “observer”? He is the “listener, who listens in the snow” – being out there, exposed to the world in which he does not belong but still created him. The snow man is an embodiment of the surmounting will of people to “breath life” into things that does not exist and “behold […] nothing.” What is the purpose of the snow man after all? We erect it out of the nothing, possessing nothing and “understanding” nothing. He is the link between the imaginary world, full of wondrous characters that we create for the mere purpose of satisfaction and the real tangible universe that encompasses the physical bodies, even those made of snow.
Taking a more profound look at the last three lines of the poem we realize that the poet is emphasizing primarily on the idea that people have the diverse ability to live in both of their worlds. We all have responsibilities to execute and obligations to meet but besides the world for the tangible “Nothing” there is another one, where even the inanimate listener hears the “sound of the leaves.” The place is bare, the sound of the wind is miserable, the season is winter, and the leaves are few… Wallace Stevens depicts his surroundings in a downcast manner, making the point that what, at first glance, seems completely desolate and void may turn out to be so emotionally loaded as to quench the “thirsty senses.”
Sometimes all I need is that thirst quencher to sooth my suffocation in those moments when I want to scream in the face of the gloomy world. And then I realize that my shout will be hurt but only by the lonely listener in the snow, and then carried away by the same winter wind. That is why all my perceptions and symbols are so dear to me for they alone are the escape I so much desire. I still smile when I see the rising sun, the blooming tree or the dozing snow man in front of a house but now I no longer wonder why!

. . .

Ти тръгна, а аз останах
И никой не разбра...
Разсъмна се и утрото изгря –
Светът бе мрачен и студен
И вятрърът свиреп свистеше.
Потърсих те и осъзнах,
Че късно и няма веч
До теб да се събуждам аз.
Прости но не можах да бъда аз
Това което искаш ти.
Обичах те и ме болеше...
Загубих те и част от мене
ти отнесе...
Сълзите няма да те спрат – върви
Върви напред и забрави,
Че с тебе крачех също аз.
Не икам аз обаче във забрава
Да потъне този блян
И продължавам да тъгувам
За прегръдките ти с свян.

The Tears Of the Man Beside

I saw a man – a lonely one
And then another one;
Two more…
Thousand faces all around.
But then I could but only feel
The tears of the man beside.
He had no voice, no name
But Sadness call him they.