Every time I leave Moldova taken by the iron bird up, up to that simulation of heaven, I secretly spread few drops of my heart on the white blanket of clouds … as a present for my mom.
On the top of the earth, grasping revelations of how delicate life is and how insanely audacious her child is, I keep diving into the white ocean of fragility, trusting that angels will carry her hopes and prayers…
And for her, I beg the Minute to be longer...
La Multi Ani, mamico!
Today Doga’s music is made of pieces of celestial symphonies and my mom’s life of 46 years, full of the wisdom of a daughter, woman, wife and mother.
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