Would You Have Anything Unauthentic?
I may be a hybrid and yet — I won’t have anything unauthentic.
Fusion doesn’t mean disparaged.
Hybrid means an assembly of elements brought together by Madame Life.
As chaotic as the elements may seem at first glance, in-depth, there is a perfect order about them.
They are delivered as they are. Even if in a hybrid shape, like myself.
The elements constitute the topics, the challenges, as well as the characters of the hybrid story.
There is no doubt about it.
We are authentic on both sides: Damascus, Syria and Bucharest, Romania, in the order of my becoming.
Abnormals in our normality, balanced in our unbalances and perfect in our chaotic manner to love.
Leaving my blood family aside, I can’t and won’t have anything unauthentic.
Why should I? Would you?
Mamaie Eugenia was and still is one of the most distinguished Romanian Ladies I have ever met. Mamaie Eugenia is of authentic descent. Grannie was connected to the Romanian Earth.
I am daughter to Julieta, an authentic narcissist. You won’t hear me talk much of Madame Julieta.
My feelings vibrate when I speak of mamaie, her mother.
Nevertheless, these past couple of years, Julieta and I have become acceptable friends. I like to say that God has forced her into taking care of me because of the pandemic. If you've been here before, I know I have said it, already. And I will say it again. For I shall hold dear her acts of kindness resembling authentic motherhood.
Scarcity teaches us to appreciate the authenticity in the simplest of moments, don’t you think?
My father’s family are residing at a stone’s throw from the ancient Citadel of Damascus.
We are a “Bundy” family, we are.
Authentic in our fussili mode.
Our roots are authentic though.
I know — I have said that too, already.
So what I am saying?
I am saying this photo of authentic Syria has chosen me. And I shall authentically imagine that I am having my coffee here, every morning.
Isn’t it the best time to drop off anything, and everything, everything unauthentic and to allow for the most authentic of sentiments to unfold in ripples of rose drops?