Mihai Ciobanu - Copilarie,parca-ai Fost Mai Ieri -

Mihai stood at the edge of the old orchard, the scent of crushed mint and sun-warmed dust filling his lungs. If he closed his eyes, he wasn't a man with graying temples; he was a barefoot boy running toward the sound of a distant flute.

"Copilarie," he whispered to the wind, "parca-ai fost mai ieri." Mihai Ciobanu - Copilarie,parca-ai fost mai ieri

It truly felt like only yesterday that he sat at his grandfather’s feet, watching the old man’s calloused hands carve stories into wood. He remembered the kitchen filled with the scent of fresh bread and the hearth fire that promised safety against the winter howling outside. Back then, the world ended at the crest of the next hill, and that was enough. Mihai stood at the edge of the old