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Self- art .

Nature and travel are my only dream in life of art ! Art of myself are the feelings that I can not tell in words ! I write alone about every photo that, I find in my walk in this life ! Sometimes, art is spooky. When writing is all that remains to me. I just have a dream, I don't know what is gonna come next ! Thinking is a history that is in your head, like numbers of math ! What is a feeling that words can't put it in white- black ? Art is more than the way the paint is, it's like the face of what your soul feels ! Black is a history of something that a memory can not forget what was in time ! What is a photo without a memory ? Or pain without a forgetfulness ? The lost memory of a photo . In  my loneliness I will stay because it's like a book without feelings and words ! The old art is like a painting, it sorrows your soul . When books are all that I have ! Pretty and art sometimes, are the same things . Writing is joy and sadness to . Photography is the art of our memories in time !




                                                                                     - A. A. Popovici,

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Mântuire dulce,.

Un glas mi-a rămas din Tine ! De ce mai respir ? Mântuire dulce, mai iubești ?! În mine sunt lacrimi . Aici,! .......... Îmi este rămășița sufletului . Oare mai respir , Mântuirea Ta dulce ? Atunci când, Inima mi-se desprinde De trup în durere .? Al Lui va fi umbra mea . Mai este ea dulce atunci ? În mâini îmi țin cerșitele cuvinte , Acolo nerostite, ce vor rămâne ? Lasă să ardă suspinul în răni ! Târzii sunt orele trecătoare .

                                                                                   - A. A. Popovici,

Perhaps or maybe ?

I like pain age of me ,.
Why do you need love ?
Future is dark for me .
My path in life is alone ?
He is my history .
You let go of your dream ?
Like a life in death !
Do heaven felt your soul ?
Just like all is over .
Now I see the steps ?
Clouds go like cold sky !
Don't fight alone do you ?
Return your heart again.
As in a lonely breath ?!
Perhaps or maybe ?



- A. A. Popovici,

Road of writing ,,,.

Writing is my lover, dreaming alone . I write, so I can not forget my loneliness road in life ! Your own fashion, write all you feel ? Mood is just you, art is yourself ?. When your life is reading books all day !. Do you know what's gonna happen if you love to much the books,  you will wake up and they will make your dream come true someday ?! I want to be there where the books are and dream of magic !!! Did you feel the pain of books ? When the pain is so big I write and give everythig that I have in me ! I can not show you my true feelings because I like to play with words . Poetry of a season isn't a happiness if you don't dream it ! It was yesterday about a book that will be my only true lover friend! When you don't have ideas,  you make them with what you have like the art that is inside you ! Writing is all that a writer can have sometimes in life ! I write because that's the real me, just the way I am . Writing is joy and sadness to ...but , Words are not …