Adela Efrim's volume stands under the sign of a poetics of the city dweller, of the suffocating daily life, doubled by the shrillness of horns, ambulance sirens, telephone alarms or the noise of concrete mixers. And, while one by one a building is erected next to a window, we witness the autoscopy of the poetic being, trapped between its own walls, carrying with it the rubble of inner experiences or extracting its energy to continue in this cemented labyrinth, under the influence of some banner or advertising slogan. The poetics of the city dweller is thus competed with that of the defragmentation of the self, which explores limit states, on the border between life and death, scream and silence - apparently, basically, equivalent to an inner suicide or to the creation of another world, built on the foundation of the being's thoughts. The impression is often of an existence "between parallel worlds", where a self-crossed Anna lives poetry as imagination and "foolish eccentricity", with the hope of blooming like an acacia, but aware of the threat of the artificial, the fake and "love without love", as a lemonade offers her "lemon salt dust / dissolved in tap water as lemonade." Maria Dinu
