City of my soul

by Daria Nicole Busta, class XII
Theoretical High School ,,Grigore Moisil" Timișoara

December 17, 1989, Timișoara: Gunshots, screams, people running in all directions to get away from the cruel violence unleashed by the Comrade's order. The image of hundreds of innocent men and women collapsing around me, the utter chaos unfolding in Opera Square, the place where the memory of life draining from the eyes of people falling to the ground, as well as the deafening sound of bullets hitting them, still clouds my thoughts to this day. It is 35 years since then, 35 years since I breathed my last breath on the steps of the Opera House.
Before all this, I was a normal woman, a mother of three children, a girl, a boy, and another baby on the way. I had a loving husband who lived by the same principles as me, a gentle man, involved in the household, a loving partner and a wonderful father. I lived a simple but happy life with my little family. But its bright future was shattered by our desire to contribute to the good of the country, our desire to make our voices heard and leave room for better.
Word of mouth has reached our ears about the rumor of a riot in the city. We didn't think it would lead to drastic damage, gunshots and lives taken, and our naivety had its say. So, after I was separated from my husband in the desperate, freedom-hungry mob, I suffered a quick but cruel death. I was shot down with a sharp pain in my chest. I put my hand to my belly and closed my eyes, remembering that I was not alone. I said good-bye to the eyes I would never see again, the eyes of my unborn child, then let the last of the air out of my lungs forever.
My imagination created a hope, which in the course of my life became a fixed idea: after death you go to another world, a world very different from ours, where there are no bad things, no sickness, no suffering, no loss. Well, contrary to what I had imagined, after a few moments of darkness I woke up in the same place where I had closed my eyes. But this time I was looking at myself, slumped on the ground in a pool of blood. I watched the crowd that had not yet calmed down, I watched the children crying for their parents, I watched the party soldiers trying to prevail against the rebels, and yet I could not perceive why I was still there. I started running, thinking that maybe I needed to find a way out of a nightmare I had created in my head. I ran and ran for days, in every direction my troubled mind could think of, until I came to terms with the fact that there was no way out, no refuge from the harsh reality. I am forced to stay grounded, to watch life go on without me, in a proximity that I cannot overcome.
Every day I wake up in a different place in the city center. I have no control over this, and every time I try to pass by Freedom Square, or the Cathedral area, I come up against an invisible barrier that I can't reach or overcome. Over time, I have learned to ignore the fact that there is no escape from this place and have tried to turn my attention to the things around me. I noticed that I could enter some of the buildings in Opera Square and the Cathedral. So, I have witnessed many events and after so many years I can say that many things have changed.
A major blow to my subconscious is the evolution of society. Women are no longer inferior to men, they have their own voice and power over their future, they are given a choice in marriage and are respected in society much more than 35 years ago. There is still room for improvement on this front, but women will certainly continue to fight for what is rightly theirs. Dressing people in everyday life has become lively, colorful. Most women prefer to wear trousers or even suits to work, men don't dress in shirts and trousers so often, but in jeans and t-shirts. The weddings I have been to in the cathedral prove that they are losing their traditionalism, brides' dress and customs are changing more and more, and the attempt to have an authentic wedding takes up too much space in the minds of the lovers. On the other hand, the relationship between family members has cooled tragically. Most parents forget that they are parents and leave their children to chance, too busy with work to pay attention to the fruits of their love, and too distracted by technology to notice. And so the family becomes an obligation, not a refuge, a place to find peace when you feel everything around you is falling apart. The indifference of adults towards their parents is also something that surprises me, the elderly are often forgotten without any help or respect.
Industries evolve day by day, some buildings collapse, others spring up overnight, yet the modes of entertainment haven't changed that much. My main occupation is attending various events in the Opera House, either private or public. Recently, I watched a play very dear to my heart: 'A Lost Letter' by Ion Luca Caragiale is the play that introduced me to the world of acting at a very young age, when my father decided that I was old enough to understand the art of theater. I was completely blown away by her performance and I was convinced it would be the same this time around. At the beginning of the show, I was struck by a different perspective on the play, one that was very chaotic and out of context. Quite a lot has been changed, with the essence of the play remaining the only one untouched. The comedy was still present, but a tragedy of things that didn't really exist was emphasized, a forced and exaggerated tragedy. The characters entered the stage running on a platform coming from the audience towards the stage, an idea that I was not able to understand. The character of Ghiță Pristanda was portrayed as a man with limited mental capacity, entering the stage dancing a pocită horta or washing on the floor, analogizing to the fact that he was not capable of anything else and ruining the image that Caragiale himself had created. Zoe Trahanache was also portrayed in the same way, portrayed in the original work as an independent and resourceful woman, while in the interpretation of the play she was running left and right after orders from Zaharia Trahanache or Ștefan Tipătescu. I suppose that these changes were meant to represent the difference between Caragiale's perception of the times and the reality the director saw, but I am not convinced.
Many things are not clear to me about these days, but one thing is certain: Timisoara has healed from the suffering brought by the Revolution, rose from the ashes and continued to fight. It has managed to evolve, and in some respects it may even regress, but everyone knows that life is full of ups and downs - the important thing is not to give up. I don't know what the future holds for me, I don't know if I will be forever trapped in the memories of this city, but I sincerely hope that I will find peace. And if not, at least I know that I will always have the city of my soul by my side.

A little cloud

by Denis Darko Stepanov-Iovanov, 7th grade
"Grigore Moisil" Theoretical High School Timișoara

On a quiet summer's day, Timisoara glistened under the rays of the sun, which was occasionally covered with a small, fluffy cloud like tiny pieces of cotton candy. One of the clouds came to life and he was told that he only had one day to see the beautiful sights and sights of Timisoara. The cloud was drawn by the current of the open door of the Romanian Opera House straight inside and sat on top of everyone to see the play "Memories of the School Age". After the play was over, the audience in the hall rose to their feet to applause. Cloud hardly refrained from shaking too hard, even though he was excited, that he would have drenched the audience with his raindrops. Once out of the Opera House, the cloud came face to face with the impressive buildings with bullet-riddled remains of the 1989 Revolution. It then flew to the Metropolitan Cathedral, fascinated by the colorful spires, which it then entered to admire the murals.

Since he couldn't stay indoors for too long, the cloud decided to visit some of Timisoara's famous parks. For starters, he flew to the Children's Park, noticing lots of children on slides, swings, playing soccer or running. Then, in the blink of an eye, he arrived at the Rose Park. There the atmosphere was much quieter, as there were more older people and teenagers sitting and admiring the park's formidable scenery, and some of them were sitting on benches and reading books.

Cloud really liked the Rose Park, so he decided to admire the place a bit more before heading to the Botanical Park. After arriving at the Botanic Park, the Cloud noticed many plant species just like in the Rose Park. He was surprised to discover there a trace of the old Citadel wall. He thought it was a long distance between the Botanic Park and the Bastion, but he realized how big the Fortress of Timișoara was. Cloud saw that it was getting darker and darker and hurried to fly over the Bega River to admire the most beautiful sunset. When it became pitch black, he went back home with his friends and family.