Spanu__Dumitru__Viorel scribbled: The expectations The dawn is here . It is so cold and the light of november is shy . No birds are singing . A few people rush to their homes after working in the night shift . Some cars are parked on the street . One of the cars became a home . In the inside , with an old blanket on them , two people are sleeping . I don`t know if they were eating something last evening , or last day . In the midst of the day they search for iron at the garbage just to sell it . I pass near them and sometimes I gave him cigarettes . I saw his eyes . There are days when he hopes nothing , there are days when it seems that he has expectations . Maybe Great Expectations . Expecting what ? Days come and go and nothing changes . What can expect a homeless man ? A job , and for sure , he dreams at a home . I don`t know if I am in the past , in the London of Charles Dickens or in the Bucharest of the year 2009 . There are people very poor , which are so passionate , so quiet , so good , but they do expect nothing . No hope , no expectation ! They accept the fate . Today I saw such a man carrying some used papers , willing to sell them for 50 cents . At a moment he stopped and shout loud : I am hungry ! His wife tells him to shut up the mouth . This is the question : If we all shut up the mouth the expectations will die .

Spanu__Dumitru__Viorel scribbled: You are a listener of the unspoken whispers . Bravo ! Viorel

Spanu__Dumitru__Viorel scribbled: Bucharest , 1st November The winter knocks at the door . It`s so beautiful because a few snowflakes twisted through the air . It`s quiet and streets are covered by the carpet of yellow and red leafs . The leafs have no worries : they don`t think at the high prices for food , electricity , phones , water , or at the warming bills . The holydays are coming . Still they won`t come with their miracles . The miracle is already here . The miracle is that we are still alive ! Author : Spanu Dumitru Viorel

Spanu__Dumitru__Viorel scribbled: Author : Spanu Dumitru Viorel The Magic It was before the magic night of Haloween . The magic must not disappear . What about hope ? I went to the market to borrow a cigarette pack . Sometimes , it happens like this . When I came back in the bus , there was a poor man who was dumb . He wrote on a piece of paper : " I die from starvation " . People in the bus were so poor that nobody gave him a dime or an apple or a little piece of bread . Where is the hope ? And it was before the Holyday of Saint Dumitru . It seems that is so little hope . There are such moments . The magic must not disappear !