The Star, The Hermit and The World, all dancing in my bedroom. Red, comfortable, Primark pyjamas feeling like a million diamonds. I think about a literature society I first learned of when I was a child. Eminescu, one of the most amazing poets of all times was there. They had open meetings where anyone could come. The ones in the back of the room, never taking part of the conversation were called crucian carps. Called so because of their banality? Oh, how I whished to be a crucian carp when I was teenager! To breathe the same air as these titans, to listen to their voices and count how many angels are talking through their mouths! In front of mastery and greatness one cannot talk one can only breathe and listen. I felt like that towards these writers. I feel like that towards all things now.