2 ordeal of labyrinth
-I remembered the theme and end, but certainly not the
approach or manner. I was surprised when I saw it was quite
good storytelling. Not at all pedantic, no 'scientific'. It is indeed
a story. .. It was a schoolboy of fourteen years - me - who has a
lab and trying experience, because it is obsessed, like everyone
else, the desire to find something to change matters. He has a
dream and the dream, a revelation: someone how to prepare
the stone. wakes up, there in the crucible, found a piece of
natural gold. Believe in the reality of transmutation. Only later
realizes it's pyrite, a sulfate.
ATTIC
C.H.R. So even before I left the school, you become - a
writer!
M.E. in a way, yes, because I published, not only about a
hundred small items in Popular Science Journal, but also some
stories, impressions of travel in the Carpathians, the account of
a journey on the Danube and Black Sea, and finally, pieces of a
novel, a teen novel shortsighted ... Completely autobiographical
novel: as my character, when suffering a crisis of melancholy Moldovan heritage .. . - The fight against this crisis through all
kinds of spiritual techniques tual. Payot6 I read his book,
Education will, and implementing it. Already in school I began
what I later called "fighting sleep. I wanted to gain time. really
interested me, not just science, but also a lot of other things:
gradually I discovered Orientalism, alchemy, history of
religions. I read the story and Max Frazer7 Miiller8 and learned
as Italian (as it read on Bye-pin), I discovered Orientalists and
historians of religions, Italy: Pettazzoni, Buonaiuti, Tucci and
others ... And wrote their books and articles about their
concerns. Admittedly, however, I was very lucky: I lived in an
attic lived in Bucharest, in my mother's house, and that attic
was completely isolated. So, at the age of fifteen, I got friends
there, I could tarry evening or night, bind coffee, talking. Attic
noise was so isolated and not bother anybody. When I came
into possession of that attic, I was sixteen. At first I took it with
my brother, but after he went to military school, I was sole
master of the attic, two small rooms, lovely.
6
I could read at will all night. . . Only know when he's fifteen
years and find modern poetry, and lots of other things, prefer to
have your own room, you can set or turn to and not just a thing
you have it parents borrowed. Was therefore a truly mine. We
lived in it, there I had a bed, a certain color. We engravings that
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