Romulus Câmpan Maramureșanu

"The term originates from the Greek δημοκρατία (dēmokratía) "rule of the people", which was coined from (dêmos) "people" and (kratos)

"The truth shall set you free..." I hate cut flowers. They remind me of life; beautiful and dead, already... Oftentimes suffering becomes a choice, a moral and an ethical one for the times

It's never been easy to be; and it's never been easy to draw a being's character portrait of self, as life is a hidden statement of facts, barely awaiting any curiosity zealots to walk into it's

“Life is nothing more but foams tossed randomly at the horizons of time and oblivion. The colours trapped within are wept words of their untold stories…”

In the beginning, men watched the horizons, and ploughed the earth. And the earth was without form, and scattered with rocks; and darkness was upon their face, and in their hearts,

Do you remember ...lia? How I used to wait every Transylvanian spring just for your velveted self? The air was still rare there up, where snow and the sky below shared the dripping

ATTENTION: The shown image and text are NOT an invitation to action! Please read responsibly, at your own risk! It's 2013, following the End of the World/Year, with hoards of zombie-like survivors

I do have quite a -proven- record of linguistic maverick-ism, to the sometimes loudly outspoken frustration of some of my fellow writers, critics and others (writers and critics maybe in their own

1. Preamble Gazing through the narrow space left between my old Angels T-shirt over to the surprisingly sunny West Midlandish winter sky dully interrupted by the same chimneyed rooftops, I

If side, there's always there, another... With no communication but the bridging self of the betweenness, like the torn flag of a broken, subdued ideal... It's the betweenness

Abiding deep, like drying, reedless water; unwanted, bitter tasting washer of anything offered, dumped, forgotten there, where light has never thought of dying... Making its way to any

It came as an unexpected shock for many, the Plenty minister's decree: no ordinary party member shall wear neither boots nor socks anymore; the production of tables shall be replaced by the

They decided to build bridges of water between riverbeds of old... Suspended underneath what used to be their dwelling... With no pillars, neither of fire, nor of heartbroken

I finally understood my absolute incapacity to understand life... I have no idea what is it, where does it come from, what is it made of... Hansel and Gretel once told me, that life as we

No one's afraid anymore of fragile girls with dragons tattooed anywhere in between the top of their heads and the long, old train which left the day innocence and hope were last seen in

"Does anybody here remember Vera Lynn?" No one out there to remember, no one to reply. Innocence is past, with no one to imagine what is was... Legions of faded poppies marching quietly over

There's nothing left to die for... Not even life.