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vol. II: 1937 – 1960 XXIIII begin to discover America… Chicago, December 10, 1984. For a whole fifteen minutes I have been standing by my window, staring blankly out into the street, without even understanding why. I got up from my desk because I thought it had started

Today's reader will be disclosed a universe, in this diary, for the reenactment of which one may only draw back on occasional reference points; these, in their turn, might prove incomplete or improper, possibly misleading, directly correspondent with the historical

January 5, 1940 On Monday I must get down to work seriously and consistently. Apart from this, my life has become unbearable. I don't know what the devil is the matter with me, I feel as if I were growing old and stupid. I suppose I have some obsessions of my own,

*  Sunday, March 31, 1940Rotten weather. I stay indoors and work, bringing my Diary to date. The French and the British hold frequent, definitely long conferences – now in Paris, now in London – attended by militaries and politicians. This incessant activity evinces

Paris, February 7th, 1939The phone wakes me up: it's George, who calls me from Algiers. He keeps waiting for his plane to be repaired. The thought that he left on an old jade – as he says – worries me. I remember my mother-in-law's words and I agree with her:

I don't know why I haven't written in here for so long. Weary of scrutinizing myself… But tonight I'm happy I've stayed in and read a book (Esquisse d'un traité du roman, Léon Bopp); I'm going to proofread City of Acacia Trees[i]. I've

Is a diary sometimes tantamount to confession and, if so, is it, most often, a sincere one? Is it also a means of self-liberation? The most delightful diaries, although usually set off by outside shocks, by major events or dramatic situations, reveal above all the confidential

Representing dance and dancers is not infrequent in Romanian art. From the famous Hora by Tattarescu, at the end of the 19th century, to the series of Căluşarii of Magdalena Rădulescu by the middle of the 20th century, various painters aimed at getting something from

The only self-relying public dance company in Romania, the Oleg Danovski Ballet Theater carries out an extremely complex and sustained activity mirrored in the diversity of its productions and projects. In 1999 the company opened its gates to the personalities of the Romanian

Significant and flamboyant, this success reaped by the Ballet Ensemble of the Fantasio Theatre in Constanţa: a corps which has made the proof of less common technical virtues and that of an exceptional graphical grace in maintaining a new (and viable) language derived from

If to the ordinary Romanian ballet aficionado the name Judith Turos doesn't ring a bell, to the German press she is die Turos, just like Italians say la Fracci. Born in Baia Mare, she attended the Choreography High School in Cluj and graduated from the Moscow Ballet

I met Ioan Tugearu in Constanţa at the Oleg Danovski Ballet Theater where he spent days on end staging Kurosawa, Mon Amour, on a collage of traditional Japanese music, with stage decoration by Ion Codrescu. The show premiered early in September. With a tape-recorder in