Colectiv-ul de peste granita

E trecut de 10 seara in Londra, toata casa doarme, iar eu ma uit la un film prost. Nu vine somnul, asa ca deschid laptopul, sa mai lucrez putin. Deschid Facebook-ul si simt ca o menghina imi strange capul, nu inteleg ce se intampla. Acum inteleg ca al meu creier nu a vrut sa proceseze ce s-a intamplat. Oameni de varsta mea au murit, intr-un loc in care pasiunea sau munca m-ar fi dus la un moment dat. Ma reped cu mesaje catre toti oamenii din Bucuresti pe care ii cunosc si sper sa imi raspunda. Ceea ce se si intampla, dar stiu ca unii nu au mai primit alinarea asta.

Dupa ore, nu mai pot procesa, niciun cuvant sau status. Ma doare capul, mi-e rau si as vrea sa ii pot explica cuiva de ce ma doare atat de tare, desi nimeni cunoscut nu era acolo. Eu sunt genul de om care sta in primul rand mereu, imi place senzatia de a fi atat de aproape de scena. Nu am putere sa imi imaginez reactia, panica, durerea.

Nu putem face nimic, nimic. Doar sa avem respect pentru suferinta oamenilor. Si familiile lor, parinti care dormeau linistiti, prieteni care s-au intins la o bere, ca au fetele o seara doar pentru ele. Si apoi iti suna telefonul. Copilul tau e in pat acasa, iar iubita urmeaza sa se intoarca, putin ametita si mirosind a tigari, se baga in pat langa tine, fara sa faca dus, iti sopteste ca te iubeste si adoarme inainte sa auda raspunsul. S-apoi sa ne rasculam.

Judecatile oamenilor care nu au fost acolo nu au nicio valoare, indiferent cat de adevarate sunt. Oamenii aia nu mai vin inapoi. A fi vina organizatorului, care a blocat iesirea de urgenta, a fi vina trupei c-au vrut si ei artificii si clubul le-a dat voie, a fi vina publicului, care nu-si stie drepturile si inca merge, fara sa rationeze, intr-un loc in care nu stie unde e extinctorul? Conteaza? Sincer, conteaza? Nicio puscarie nu e mai grea decat propria vina, pe care s-o porti dupa tine, gandindu-te: „Oare cum ar fi fost daca…?”

Cat despre comentariile aruncate aiurea, atat cele brutale, cat si cele care se vor amuzante, sa fie lasate deoparte. Nimic nu mai schimba ce s-a intamplat si nimic nu-i va schimba pe ei. Lasa-i sa fie in lumea lor plina de semne apocaliptice, pentru ca Dumnezeul meu nu pedepseste cu foc niste tineri care asculta o muzica diferita de a ta. El iubeste si iarta. Daca era Valentine’s Day, tot a imprumutului era vina? Avem si noi traditii in care mascatul sperie duhurile rele, asa ca Halloween sau alt nume, n-are de-a face cu tragedia asta. Intentionat? O trupa care canta rock a dat intentionat foc unui club, ca sacrificiu? E departe de a fi retorica intrebarea. Nici n-ar trebui sa existe.

Avem multe de invatat. Despre empatie, durere si greseli care costa. Intr-o lume ideala, fumatul in interior ar fi interzis si cluburile ar fi dotate cu alarme de incendiu. Sa curga cu apa din tavan, zic. Dar nu stiu cati dintre noi ar fi dat banii pe asemenea sisteme. „Noua nu ni se poate intampla” e o boala.

Ne e inima alaturi de toti. Mai mult n-avem ce sa facem, decat sa invatam. Avem un sistem de urgenta deficitar (daca spitalele nu fac fata la numarul asta, nu vreau sa ma gandesc la o alta situatie), uneori avem o gandire deficitara, dar inca suntem umani. Multumiri celor care s-au organizat pentru campaniile de recoltare a sangelui. Si celor care plang in pumni, acasa, cu gandul ca nimic nu va mai fi la fel.

Si-o dam in teorii si conspiratii, in loc sa recunoastem ca ne doare. Chiar si fara telefonul de la 4 dim. Dupa 3 zile, se aude muzica in bucatarie. E ciudat, a fost liniste atatea zile. Dar a fost una dureroasa. A fost un accident, unul nefericit. Vina se imparte intre toti, chiar si noi. Romania a pierdut peste 30 de oameni. Eu i-am pierdut, toti am facut-o.

Deloc nu-mi place reactia BOR-ului, la fel de mult imi displac comentariile fanatico-religioase. , strigam toti. Si se prabuseste totul din nou. Dar ma consolez cu gandul ca viitorul se poate schimba. Datorita noua, astora de ascultam muzica de prost augur, mergem in locuri de aproape se prabusesc si ne pierdem noptile prin cluburi pline de fum de tigara.

Sunt mai mult decat mandra de oamenii de acasa. Mobilizarea a fost extraordinara. Inca suntem oameni si inca avem puterea de a lupta. Iar vineri seara ne-a dat sutul de care aveam nevoie. Pacat ca unii nu vor mai fi aici sa faca poze, sa mai lege 2 cabluri, sa mai urce pe scena. Facebook-ul a fost plin de initiative, de dorinta de a ajuta. Din pacate, daca textul tau nu a informat, nu-si avea locuri. Iar descrierile prea brutale n-au mai facut diferenta dintre tine si Click.ro. Durerea unui om, transpusa in imagini dure, n-a facut decat sa doara mai tare, cand de putina pace avea nevoie toata lumea.

It’s after 10 pm in London, the whole house is asleep and I’m watching a bad movie. No sleep, so I open my laptop, work some more. I open Facebook and I feel like a vise tightens my head, I can’t wrap my head around what’s happening. I understand now that my brain did not want to process it. People my age have died in a place where passion and work would have led me sometime. I quickly message to all the people I know in Bucharest and I hope they answer me. Which happened, but I know some people didn’t have that relief.

After hours, I can’t process no more, any word or status. My head hurts, I’m sorry and I wish someone could explain why it hurts so badly, though no one I knew was there. I’m the kind of girl who always sits in first row, I like the feeling of being so close to the stage. I don’t have power to imagine the reaction, panic, pain.

We can’t do anything. Just have respect for people’s suffering. And their families, parents sleeping peacefully, friends who were having another beer, girls having an evening to themselves. And then your phone rings. Your child is in bed at home and your lover will return, a little dizzy and smelling of cigarettes, gets into bed beside you, without taking a shower, whispers that she loves you and falls asleep before hearing the answer.

The judgements from people who were not there have no value, no matter how true they are. Those people are not coming back. An organizer who blocked the emergency exit, the band fireworks and the club let them, the public, who was willingly there, but doesn’t know their rights and still goes in a place where they don’t  know where the fire extinguisher is- who’s fault is it? Does it matter? Honestly, does it matter? No jail is worse than their own guilt, thinking: „How would have been if …?”

Random comments, both brutal and the „funny”ones are to be left aside. Nothing will change what happened and nothing will change them. Let them be in their world full of apocalyptic signs, because my God does not punish with fire some young people listening to different music from yours. He loves and forgives. If it was Valentine’s Day, it was still the „borrowing” to blame? We also have traditions in which masked people scare evil spirits, so Halloween or other name, has nothing to do with this tragedy. O an purpose? A band that plays rock intentionally starts a fire as a sacrifice? It’s far from being rhetorical question. Nor should it exist.

We have much to learn. About empathy, pain and mistakes that cost. In an ideal world, they would have banned smoking inside and clubs were equipped with fire alarms. Water flowing from the ceiling, I would say. But I do not know how many of us would have given the money for such systems. „That can’t happen to us” is a disease.

We’re there with all our hearts. There’s nothing more to do than to learn. We have an emergency deficit (whether hospitals can’t cope with this number, I do not want to think of another situation), but we are still human. Many thanks to those who organized blood collection campaigns. And those who cry in fists, at home, thinking that nothing will ever be the same.

And we have conspiracy theories, instead of recognizing that it hurts us. Even without the phone from 4 dim. After 3 days, there is music in the kitchen. It’s weird, there were quiet days. But it was a painful silence. It was an accident, an unhappy one. The guilt is divided among all of us. Romania has lost over 30 people. I lost them to, we all did.

I do not like BOR’s reaction, as much as I dislike fanatics-religious comments. Resignation, resignation, we all shout. And everything collapses again. But I find comfort in thinking that the future can and will change. Thanks to us, the ones listening to dark music, going in places close to collapse and lose our nights in clubs full of cigarette smoke.

I am more than proud of the people at home. Mobilization was great. We’re still people and still have the strength to fight. And Friday night gave us the catalyst we needed. Unfortunately, some people won’t be there to take pictures, connect 2 cables, get up on the stage. Facebook was full of initiative and desire to help.

If your text is not informing, there was no place for it.Too brutal descriptions just got you closer to Click.ro. The pain of a man transposed in harsh images, it only made it worse when all we needed was some peace.

Chiar daca suntem departe de tara, sufletul ne e acolo. Si o sa luptam pentru ca moartea lor sa nu fi fost in van.

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