On a Saturday I went to the book "Secund Game" to buy a book, and I chose "The Comedy Inferno" by Emil Brumaru, which I took because she was in hip and had her Red tape, which reads "This book contains explicit erotic texts and illustrations that are prohibited for minors. " I opened it out of the bookstore and read it from home, amazed that it was such a thing in the world. At home, we read Dana's book in a whisper, in our dark and dark rooms, giggling and being careful not to hear us, God forbid, our host (who also became a monk in the meantime).
It was like my first meeting with Emil Brumaru. The second date, this physical, occurred in about eight years in 2014, when I attended the Prague Book Fair. As angry as children, freak and banging, quite differently than I thought years ago, Emil Brumaru decided to spend the day with me and poet Krista Szöcs, so I picked up the city and we didn't stop until we had crossed the last one the tourist house, including the castle. We stood in front of the famous 22nd small house on Zlatá ulička (the golden street) where Kafka stayed for a while, we wandered around the museums, ate some soup in a restaurant, and we endured the wind that swung up.
I tried to remember what I was talking about books, but I remember a single title – the Bible. Emil Brumaru told us he had read the Bible that he had not read his head so far. Upon returning to the hotel he was so tired of our huge walk that he saw confession that he slept and slept the next day, even though he had usually had trouble sleeping.
In the morning, in the hotel dining room, I met a more refreshed and slightly better Emil Brumaru who had a bowl of coffee in front. Not a cup, but a bowl. He told us he did not like to go to coffee, so he gets more of it from the beginning.
I have met Emil Brumaru many times since then, last time autumn 2017, at the International Literature and Translation Festival in Iasi (FILIT), when we both participated in a reading of poetry. The hall was full, everyone had come to see Emil Brumaru, and he offered them everything they were waiting for. He read very little poetry (or perhaps not at all), but instead he told humorous moments of his youth when he was a doctor. He laughed so much in the afternoon in Iasi, because, besides being a brilliant poet, Emil Brumaru was an extraordinary entertainer. At the end of the meeting, he turned back and bumped.
We have talked in the meantime, every now and then, on Facebook, we have seen the passage of the fairs, I have exchanged books and one day he wrote to me: "I lock you in a room a sleeping bag to write and draw a book. again I would grab you to write one! Mie Nichita once said to me: "Elderly, literature is finished with books." It's all shit! "
We stood and searched through memory (and photographs) and decided that all variants of Emil Brumaru that I met still live, when Emil Brumaru lives in front of Kafka's house. First, he smiled, then a little wrinkled, when the appalled, because he didn't have the patience to take three pictures, he wanted us to do one, ready to get memory and continue.
Emil Brumaru also went through Prague, on the golden street, made fun of tourists, smiled at his ladies, frightened the wind, dreamed of huge amounts of coffee, without attempting to close the jacket and hit. It's just that the man has turned into poetry.
Read all the editors signed by Lavinia Bălulescu
Lavinia Bălulescu is also at the think tank.