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Ioana Pârvulescu
164
braided uniforms saluted
somebody in a carriage. A
hubbub, a merry buzz, with
clattering hooves muffled by
the snow, coachmen’s cries,
and jingling harness bells.
The snow on the road was
sullied as if with ashes and
churned by the horses’
hooves, but the pavements
were white.
I felt rested and joyful. It
was as if I found myself in
the world of a young and
active God, having lived
in an increasingly ruinous
world that had lost its God or
which had been lost by God.
It was as if I were seeing,
after many long years, a sky
I no longer knew existed.
It was as if I had been
resurrected, after a living
death. It was as if I were
under a protective wing. A
good feeling, one of love
for all that I saw, tightened
my throat. My heart was
beating wildly and I felt the
pain that had longago inured
me to the thought of death.
Something had happened
without my knowledge. I did
not understand why, but my
eyes filled with tears. Might
I be dreaming? When you
dream, however, you do
not necessarily realize it is
a dream, but when you are
awake you know for sure. I
did not need to pinch myself
tobesurethat all Iwas seeing
was real. Reality has an
unmistakable consistency.
When you go to work in the
morning, nobody has to tell
you that you are not asleep
or that you are alive. I was
in a world that was alive and
awake. It looked familiar to
me. I knew that I knew it, but
I did not know how I knew
it. I knew it and yet I did
not really know it. I asked
myself where I had ended