The woman with secrets, and the man without shadow
It is easy to believe a woman has secrets, but almost nobody believes that a man without shadow can exist. From this point of confusion we start our story. Even stories are not what they used to be with “once upon a time” Actually, most of the stories in our lives repeat themselves, all of them are a modified version of the first story we lived. If I have to be totally honest, most of the stories should have less lies. Of course, lies are not bothering as much as the truth, especially the one thrown in the face likes a white glove. Take the lies in one story, and you’ll see how people will growl at you. Well, our story has no lie in it, but neither some truth. How is this possible? Very simple. Because this story is written on the thin line between the truth and lie.
Our woman with secrets was walking on this line like a ballerina in full storm on the sea. No storm is passing without wreckage, so we have: a shoe without laces, a clock without tongue, a bottle with no message, a cake with no cherry, a bench with no old people, a story without an ending, and, of course, a man without shadow. The man had no shadow because he ran so much and so fast that his own shadow couldn’t keep up with him anymore and left the man alone, like any guardian angel. The woman had more secrets than a dog had fleas, although her secrets weren’t jumping from here to there, but were as mute as fish. Because of the weight of her secrets, she couldn’t walk, out of the question to be able to run. Can you imagine her surprise when she saw a man who could only run? Luckily, the time stopped, out of respect for the watch without tongue, and both of them stood on the bench and ate the cake. The shoe with no lace had no problem with this lack, because many years ago he went in the prison for shoes, and he was all the time worried not to hang himself with his own lace while sleeping. You already understood that this story has no end, so probably you wonder what happened with the bottle without message. I cannot tell you what happened afterwards, because it is one tiny truth in our story, and that is nobody ever knows what will happen next.
The gloomy November morning gathered
a flock of crows on the little patch of burnt grass, settled in the Primăverii neighborhood. The
buildings, still moist after a light, but persisting rain, like multicolored
pieces of Lego, merged unexpectedly, rise defiantly on the tongue of the
The windows begin to light up one
after the other, illuminated in hues of dirty yellow and silver; with curtains,
with blinds, others are just bare windows inviting you to discover their loose
With a step forward and one backward,
always between yesterday and tomorrow, we live in a question without answer:
does the night end or the morning begin? And if it is a day when we can change
everything, why don’t we see it, although our eyes are wide open?
Bucharest wakes up. The arteries of
the city gradually begin to be crossed by cars with drivers who are searching
for something, half asleep. Their automatic gestures reveal the monotony in
which they bath like in a warm muddy puddle, like a drop of water in the
fractured asphalt, sometimes dreaming of being a drop of ocean.
Every man tells two stories: one to himself, and one to the others. Most of the time, these two stories do not bare resemblance to one another. Most of the time, we wake up and wish we were in another story.
This is how the story of The Harlequin, yet untold, begins…
Natasha Alina Culea is a name which doesn’t belong to her anymore, a name which she gave as a gift to her readers – she says – it is a name printed on thousands of books in Romania and Moldova Republic, under six titles (in chronological order): “Natasha, the men and the psychoanalyst”, “Marat”, Wolves of the past”, “Nights in Monaco”, “Dreams never sleep”, and “The Harlequin” – the most recent novel, launched in December 2018. Sometimes she thinks she is a writer, other times a hermit or a peregrine, but she always loves her readers. After the novel “Wolves of the past” she wrote “Nights in Monaco” just to cheer up her readers who cried on her shoulders, demanding her happy-ending novels.
C&B: Describe or define your activity!
“Being a Romanian Author is a challenge, and the term challenge is a mild term if we refer to the confused and confusing situation of the Romanian book market of the Contemporary Literature. My only ambition is to give my readers a memorable reading and, being a perfectionist, I will evolve whether or not I have readers who will no longer keep up with the complexity of the writing I have intended to reach. In the end, the book also chooses the reader, not only the reader chooses the book. Either I find the way to bring together the essence of classical literature with the simplified structure of contemporary literature, resisting to the minimalist beletristic marasm wave, or I will not write at all. Because we are not allowed to negotiate with Romanian literature, which will remain many years after we will not be. I am guided by words as: erudition, evolution, exemplarity”.