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    A Little Frog’s Heart: The Stellar Waltz of Life
    A Little Frog’s Heart: The Stellar Waltz of Life
    A Little Frog’s Heart: The Stellar Waltz of Life
    Ebook613 pages9 hours

    A Little Frog’s Heart: The Stellar Waltz of Life

    By George Virtosu

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    About this ebook

    The well-known questions such as What, How and, above all, Why are given some unexpected and enchanted answers in the volume III of the book A Little Frog’s Heart. These answers are delivered by the original characters we got used to celebrating along the story.


    The relationship between a grandfather and his grandson is being brought in a warm light destined to open up our hearts for the harmonies of this volume, The Stellar Waltz of Life.


    In the glittering bunch of the stories which interweave and overflow from each one to the others, as a modern version of the series On Thousand and One Nights, one could discern two mythological episodes, somehow a remnant of a popular Christianity magnificently adapted for a contemporaneous audience, of a genuine originality, which sheds their light as if they were some big rounded regal grapes, even if they are in a way ‘removed’ from the bunch and ‘spread’ all over the volume.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAdenium
    Release dateMar 17, 2016
    ISBN9786067420579
    A Little Frog’s Heart: The Stellar Waltz of Life

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      Book preview

      A Little Frog’s Heart - George Virtosu

      GEORGE VÎRTOSU

      A LITTLE

      FROG’S HEART

      A Story For All Ages

      The Stellar Waltz of Life

      Volume III

      Translated from the Romanian by Monica Morosanu

      Editors: Adriana Nicorici, Gabriel Cheşcu

      Reviewer: Liviu Antonesei

      Proofreading: Mirela Bowenhunt

      Cover and Illustrations: Ciprian O. Dudaş

      ISBN ePUB: 978-606-742-057-9

      ISBN PDF: 978-606-742-055-5

      Vol. 3. : The Stellar Waltz of Life - 2014

      Editorial Adenium, Iași, Romania

      www.adenium.ro

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system, in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

      The illustrations, names, characters and places are registered trademarks.

      Copyright © Gheorghe Vîrtosu 2013

      If you are interested you may also enter the wonderful world of the friends of the Little Frog’s Heart through reading the comic book.

      e-mail: editorial@adenium.ro

      The third volume of the Little Frog’s Heart will be dedicated to someone, following the pattern of both the previous volumes, and of those that are yet to come.

      There are many persons in my life to whom I am grateful for bearing me in their arms from the very first day, always there for me to witness my first smile, my first gurgling, my first steps. Although these are persons who deserve this book to be dedicated to them, and even if it may seem surprising, after the dedications to my parents in the first volumes, this volume is dedicated to the editor of the Little Frog’s Heart.

      Why Adriana?

      I shall answer this question (if it should still be necessary), after I have set down in the following lines, with your permission, a little story containing some essential points which will serve as arguments for this choice, and I shall transpose it into an imaginary world, as I usually do.

      It was a horrible winter night. The blizzard and frost so heavy, that the hardest of stones would crack open. The thick layer of snow had taken good care to cover all the imperfections of the ground during the swap-over between years, so that the Earth would enter the New Year dressed in clean, immaculate clothes, as clean as people hope that the time to come will be. Everything was so beautiful! The luminous sky of the day itself seemed to have descended on earth, offering – even if just for a while – the grandeur of the high skies. The only thing missing was the brightness of the sun, which would have made the darkness of night shy away for ever...

      Lifelong friends, the Old Wind and the sharp Frost had planned to bring the dark night to its knees, because she took sides with the rocks, which she hid under her dark clothes, impeding the two friends from reaching them. Whistling like mad and blowing hard enough to make your hairs stand on end when you heard him, the Wind had drawn a very thick curtain made of murky clouds over the vaults of the high sky, so that it would not be able to read his intentions. With the help of the magic wand, received as a gift from his friend (the fierce Frost), the Wind had stolen the brightness of the stars in advance, and he bestowed their shine over the sheets of snow that embraced the earth in a warm moist cuddle.

      But Night was not sleeping! Leaning nonchalantly on the backrest of her throne, made of a hill that kept inside it the bodies of everyone who’d sacrificed their lives for the good of those lands, Night watched the two old friends from above as they scattered a multitude of sparkling little stars all over the Winter’s. On the one hand, she thought the old swingers would not manage to do much, especially at their age... On the other hand, she was feeling the steadfastness of the Wind, closely supported by the merciless winter Frost, and she soon realised that those two old fools were taking things beyong a joke!

      She had to distract them somehow, to put a spanner in their works, making it a hundred times harder than it had been and never-ending; something akin to that of Sisyphus. After a little thinking, she stretched her delicate arm and drew quickly a corner of the curtains covering the immense vaults of the sky. Once unveiled, the stars shone strongly and the old adventurers gave a start. They turned their eyes towards heaven, frowning. The stars shone even stronger, making signs to the old folks. Some encouraged them in their endeavour to finish the Winter’s mantle, but some threw angry sparks at them, telling them off for trying to replicate their beauty...

      It was not the first time, anyway, when Night played such tricks on the two friends. The Old Wind and the fierce Frost did not give up easily; they exchanged knowing looks, determined to return to their job. But something else caught their attention that instant. It was something that had gone unnoticed from the very start! It was a little star that barely shimmered as it crossed the vaults of the sky. It was heading straight to earth, nevertheless, apparently driven by great sadness, and making slow progress, sliding down shyly amongst others, more luminous and more imposing stars. You could see the Little Star was coming back from a long secret journey, but knew nothing of where he was going. In no hurry at all, he was coming from the west, and going eastwards...

      Some of the stars around tried to cheer him up, scattering star dust on him to brighten him up. But the Little Star pushed them away. The Old Wind and the Frost exchanged yet another gaze, unable to understand what was going on! The Little Star descended straight to earth, as if somebody from above had thrown him on a wet surface on which he was now sliding discreetly... That was the reason why he was barely visible; from afar, he looked just like a shy glimmer.

      The cold, sad star flew above the Wind, above the Frost, and above their friend –the Winter – without paying any attention to them. Nothing like that had ever happened before. How on earth, did the little fellow dare ignore them?!

      Having reached the far end of the land, the Star came to a standstill. He stayed there for many nights, unmoving, looking towards the earth. Throughout all this time, the other stars tried to shed their own bright light on him... In vain! The new-comer was ever so hard to please! Perhaps he was waiting for a signal from down below, in the midst of the Earth?! A sign from somebody? A greeting? A secret message?

      Having understood they couldn’t be of much help, even the two old friends let him be. Why the Little Star stopped there was none of their business. They were busy anyway: they had to adorn Winter’s dress, and make it as beautiful as they could, so that at the time of their separation she would give them top marks! She would then recommend them to her sisters, the seasons, who run away from Wind and Frost! She would tell them about these lands as being some of the most hospitable and welcoming!

      They all seemed to have got used to the star being around...

      But on a cold frosty night, when you’d have thought that even the last breath of life had gone numb because of the savage cold, and the howls of the wolves resounded frighteningly from all over the place, the Little Star left that area. And, sliding gently, as gently as he had arrived, without making a noise, he turned back on the same route, from the East to the West. With only his sadness as his fellow, he started back in his journey discretely shimmering in the night sky…

      The Wind and the Frost had seen his movements. The departure of the mysterious star was no laughing matter to them. They knew stars never deviate from their track: on the contrary! They tirelessly spin around, and follow one direction only! Once again they looked at each other inquisitively: what was happening to the Little Star? Maybe he needed help? Was he somehow lost? The Wind even wanted to ask Frost to go up to the lonely visitor and ask him what was wrong. Also to warn him that his unusual movements might play havoc with that corner of the universe.

      The Little Star, haunted by sadness, had read their intentions. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t have laborious plans to put into practice. He had simply emptied his mind and left everything aside, hoping that the Universe would take care of it as the Universe would find appropriate.

      Suddenly, an exceptionally strong light burst out at the ground level. The Old Wind stood stock still, shading his eyes with his hand in order to protect them. In the sudden light, the stars in the sky could witness the immense wound that marked the land. A wound nursed back to health by the restless waters of the winding river that had managed to turn it into a scar by permanently caressing it. The Little Star felt something inside him. He slowed down a little, as if trying to taw away with him the sorrow that overshadowed the land for millennia, like a valuable piece of memorabilia deemed to leave its mark in the eternal existence of the Universe.

      But he did not stop. The unseen force in whose hands he had placed his hopes urged him to go further... So, continuing on his way, he flew over the Wind and the Frost. This time the Little Star was not so indifferent. His eyes met with the Old Wind’s and something deep down inside stirred. He was now going forward and shone his little light on the most hidden corners on earth that had been crucified by Frost. He peered around long and hard, as if looking for something specific.

      The two friends, the Wind and the Frost, didn’t make a move. They just followed the Little Star in silence. The Moon made a discreet sign in order to tell them to see about their jobs. She seemed to be telling them that she would deal with the Little Star herself.

      He continued unimpeded on his way: the whole Universe knew that it was his home and, despite his small dimensions and his weak light, nobody and nothing could touch him. Nobody could harm him!

      Who knows how far he did go? He had gone far enough from the place where the Wind and the Frost were competing amongst themselves to draw the most impressive sceneries in Nature’s nooks, and to adorn the Winter’s dress. At some point, the Little Star suddenly stopped. After flying for quite some time, the Little Star found himself hovering above a land which stretched out for miles desolate and deserted. The Little star paused her flight mid-air to have a good look. Despite the barren appearance, or maybe because of it, nature had embellished it in its unique, complete manner; in its quiet stillness, the land laid undisturbed by meddlesome creatures of any kind, while the eye of the unsuspecting viewer was drawn to... something special!

      The Little Star’s eyes opened wide: what was so special about that place? What was it that made him stop from his journey across the sky? he asked himself. His instinct served him well – he could distinguish something moving underneath and, in a flash of intuition, he understood: the little shimmering light glowing out of him scattered over the land beneath and woke up a little flower! A little flower that had miraculously withstood the freezing wind and the unforgiving cold! Nature, like a good mother, had put to work its unparalleled craftsmanship to sew a delicate little duvet made of the fluffiest snowflakes; it had sheltered the flower from the wintry winds and the grumpy moods of the frost. But even so, her act of resistance had attracted the Little Star’s attention. There was nobody else around it. Yet, when all its sisters abandoned it, the fate didn’t, despite the gloomy thoughts of the little frail plant.

      The Star’s light seemed to have woken the little flower up from her hibernation. She didn’t realise what was happening, but looking up, she discovered the Little Star who looked closely at her. When he realised he’d been discovered, he gave a gentle start and his gaze sank in the horizon, in the direction he was supposed to follow.

      The Little Flower noticed his gesture. She smiled, but the unforgiving cold put a frozen kiss on her lips as he passed by. The Little Flower didn’t show her pain. On the contrary, she defiantly went on to confront the one who thought she was helpless and daringly shook of her shoulders the little snowflake duvet, thus showing she was not afraid of the Frost. Then she looked around her self-conscious, as if she felt slightly guilty for failing to fulfil her role as a hostess of the place. Her eyes shone with joy when she discovered that Mother Nature had adorned everything so beautifully, as for a celebration, and she welcomingly beckoned the Little Star inviting him to stay over if he wanted! There was enough room and nobody would have minded, as there was no one else around!

      The Star looked at her without as much as a gesture. His straight face was a credit to him: cold and unmoving like a proper dignified star’s! He just looked at her without even blinking; nothing there seemed to raise an interest for him him. Not even the flower’s invitation!

      She was surprised at first, but she soon picked herself up and acted on the first impulsive thought that came to mind: she allowed the duvet to fall to the ground, as she continued to stand up with only her natural beauty as her cover against the frost bite. Was she planning to impress the Little Star? Did she want to make him take pity on her?

      No! None of these. She just wanted to make him feel at ease, to stop being sad and… she wanted to show him something! Something she held carefully to her chest, protected by the warmth of her heart. She opened her hand. In the steaming cup of the flower’s palms was a seed! A small seed which the Flower lifted toward the Star with joy and care, in order to prevent Frost get hold of her priceless treasure.

      Her presence brought a touch of warmth to the place: after all, she was not alone, abandoned by all living creatures, in that forlorn ravine. The immaculate blanket of snow softened the rough edges of the scenery which, otherwise, would have spooked out the few brave ones who dared venture there!

      For the first time since their encounter, the flower thought she could decipher a reaction on the Star’s face. Maybe it was the unexpected presence of that seed which impressed him? He looked again across the vaults of the sky. His sisters had already drawn the road on which he had to travel back. And yet... some of them encouraged him to give in to the inviting offer of the flower.

      The Little Star took a deep breath and looked again at the tiny, courageous plant. She embraced her bundle of joy closely and showed the star that, if he wanted to, there was enough room for him to stay over. The night was still young and they had plenty of time yet. Before the Little Star could make up his mind, the other stars had already put together a stairway leading precisely to the place where the flower was taking shelter.

      The Little Star descended light as a feather and he soon reached the Flower. He stopped at some distance from her. The Flower wanted to greet him but a cold draft made her lose her voice for a while. She coughed to clear her throat, made her excuse in front of the Star and then said in a whisper:

      Good evening star from up high!

      The Star didn’t answer. He just looked at her – or, better said, he looked at her very closely, moving his cold gaze from her to the frail seed she held in her frozen arms.

      The Little Flower was confused. The sadness and coldness of the Star acted like a brick wall between them; next to each other, and yet so far apart: he remained unapproachable. But she didn’t lose her composure. The Frost was prowling around in readiness for the fatal bite, so the Little Flower gave a frightened smile. She thought she could see the countless stars from the vault of the sky shining down on her, encouraging her to be brave and find a way to make the other-worldly visitor talk to her.

      Persuaded by the unexpected support of her bright friends from above, the Flower cleared her voice again and tried to take her mind off the bone-aching cold as she asked:

      Where are you coming from, Little Star? What made you come all this way to our lands? And... why are you so sad? Why aren’t you talking to anyone? If you are troubled, it will do you good to let it all out! I am ready to listen to you! I might even be of some help, she babbled quickly – both because of the cold, and because she wanted to say everything before being interrupted.

      The sad star finally blinked; he sighed deeply, and his strong and cold breath made both the flower and the seed in her arms shiver. But he did not hurry to say anything. He looked at their old timers nearby – the Frost and the Old Wind – who had stopped on a hillside and watched them from the corners of their eyes. The Flower looked that way too; noticing her new nosy neighbours, she frowned as if stung by an angry bee!

      Their intentions given away like that, the two friends busied themselves circulating rough breezes from here to there to embellish Winter’s dress with brightness collected from the vaults of the sky. They feigned to perfection a total lack of interest in anything besides their job. The Star saw the shadow of the Flower created by the light of the moon, and he could only imagine her disappointment, but did not respond; it was as if he wanted to get the advice of somebody else first.

      He looked at the moon from the corner of his eye. She made desperate efforts to draw his attention to the Flower! The Star listened, turned to his little host and gave a start. The Flower’s sudden sadness gave him the shivers! He thought she might be cold or... maybe she had caught his sadness? He increased his light suddenly in order to offer her some warmth! No reaction came from the Flower, though. She looked at him with wide eyes, stunned, as if who knows what had stopped in front of her!

      The Star checked himself out: maybe he was dirty! He looked behind him, too: was there anyone else that had come over without him noticing? No, nothing of the sort. Very curious to find out, he decided to talk:

      Tell me, what happened? Are you cold? You look as if the Frost turned you to stone! And saying this the Star cast a gloomy glance in the direction of the two old fellows to let them know that he meant business and tough measures were to be taken if they were guilty of whatever was happening to the flower!

      No, Star! There is no need for that! said the Little Flower, reading his mind. Thank you, anyway!

      What is it, then? he turned to her.

      Please tell me: who are you and where are you coming from? came the Flower’s sudden question. The Star looked at the place he came from, but did not answer immediately.

      Do you belong here, but had to go far away at some point for reasons known only by yourself, like stars do all the time? the Flower insisted.

      Wait a moment... you are a flower! the Star interrupted her. Your life is short! How did you find out about the destiny of the stars in general, and about those who left these lands long ago?

      Oh, I know many things! smiled the Flower. Some from my parents, some from my neighbours and friends! Some of the things I know come straight from the stars! Look, I can say about you that you’ve returned from a long trip, urged by sorrow... Many sorrows hidebehind your cold brilliance...

      Sorrows? the Star gave a gentle start.

      He Wearing his heart on the sleeve in front of a plant didn’t exactly fit in with his idea of discretion.

      But what do I know…please don’t mind me and my silly talk… said the Flower quickly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Anyway, sadness makes your brightness fade! It makes you feel alienated and lacking in confidence, and unwilling to talk about it… You seem so faint! Judging by the look on your face, you are surely going down with something, she added.

      For the first time, the Star lowered his eyes in front of the flower. He breathed in again, deeply, and the coldness of his breath made the Little Flower quickly pull the snowflake duvet up and lay it carefully around her shoulders; she made sure that the little seed was nestled to her bosom nice and snug.

      This is true. You are right! whispered the Star. I now feel like an aimlessly wandering star. I left my native lands long ago…

      The Little Flower reached out with a trembling hand, determined to make him look up. Seeing her shadow, the Star guessed her intention. The Flower understood and withdrew her hand.

      Then… maybe you will allow me to give you a warm welcome? It’s nice to have you back home safe and sound! she whispered with good will, smiling, trying to make him a little bit happier.

      She didn’t like it when those around her were unhappy; particularly somebody who had stopped by for some rest and relaxation. With all the movement and wriggling around, the little snowflake duvet had slid off her shoulders again, making a flock of little stars carefully arranged by Frost on the ground to fly joyfully in the light of the Star. The Flower raised to her mouth the cupped hands in which she held the seed, and whispered:

      Did you hear that, dear child? A star that belongs to these lands has returned home today! This is a great joy for us all!

      The Star looked briefly at her; despite her innocent bravado and her genuinely good will, the Flower couldn’t stop the violent trembling in all her limbs! With quick movements, the Star leaned over and picked the sparkling duvet up, covering the Flower, and then returned to his place looking to the sky, where he discovered a snaking road of light that seemed destined for him to follow. Noticing his gaze, the Flower guessed what was going on in his mind. Embracing the seed strongly, she took courage and said:

      Oh star, you don’t have to do that...

      What exactly? he looked inquisitively at her.

      Why leave your native lands again?

      What good would it be for me to stay, when nobody is interested in my being here? replied the Star, disappointed.

      How come? frowned the Little Flower, understanding the reason why he wanted to go.

      You’ll see what I mean if you look around! You might not have noticed, but I’ve been living here for a while, on the borders, and nobody even deigned to greet me! said the Star with bitterness in his voice. Not to mention being invited by anyone, as if I’m some sort of jinx that rests amongst them! If you only knew how much I longed for this greeting! Well... he seemed reluctant to give away too much of his suffering.

      No, I haven’t noticed! the Flower said again, quickly. You know, cold is not exactly the best of friends to us, during this time of the year, she smiled. He brings us to our knees in no time! It is his way of showing everybody he is one of the strongest masters of the world!

      The Star looked admonishingly to the place where the Frost and the Wind were apparently minding their business...

      But why do you say that... nobody greeted you? continued the Flower. The Star looked at her. It seemed to him she was very daring!

      Look, I... I greeted you! smiled the Flower. The glamorous visitor wanted to say something but changed his mind.

      Ignoring the danger of exposing herself to the elements – Frost being able to take over her frail body quickly – the Little Flower reached out to the Star again. Her warm confidence unsettled him greatly. He tried to stop her. She said gravely pretending not to notice:

      Given that you are a star, you must surely know the unwritten laws of the Universe.

      The Star scrutinised her closely:

      What do you mean? he asked. Be more specific!

      This law maintains that if a single creature (irrespective of the species), said the Flower slowly, believes in another creature’s worthiness, they deem it as valuable to the whole universe. It is also known that one’s value is easier recognised by somebody coming from the same place – you have to be one , to know one! No matter how much we move around, or where we choose to be at a certain time, there is only one place under the sun we can call homeland! That is our home, just as much as we are its children! Measured against it, nobody and nothing else matter! The common longing for the homeland is an unbreakable bond for those who share it! So you, Little Star, you will only feel accomplished here, if you belong to these lands as you said! she said directly to the Star.

      The Flower fell silent. The Star took a deep breath and whispered:

      Things are as you said. You are right! But it might happen that you feel more appreciated and more wanted in foreign and faraway lands, rather than in your own home! The trouble is that your soul feels lonely, empty, wandering, even if foreign lands offer you special comfort...

      So? the Flower dared to speak again. Why don’t you stay here, since this is the place where you were born? Look, there is a creature that believes in you, as the law that I mentioned maintains! Perhaps more than one…

      Yes? Who? asked the Star, looking around.

      The Little Flower smiled shyly:

      Me, the seed… she smiled a little, showing it to him. Do you think there can be any creature on this earth that becomes fulfilled if they can’t enjoy the shining stars that whisper magical stories each evening?

      The Star gave her a scrutinising look; the Flower thought the stars from up high shone strangely on hearing her words.

      And... the two old friends believe in you, too! she added, pointing at the hill. The Frost and the Old Wind! she said enthusiastically. Not to mention Princess Winter. They rejoice and believe in the shimmering of all stars, no matter how small, no matter how distant! They know better than anyone that each detail in the Universe has an essential role to play in the big picture!

      The Star looked in the direction of the hill. Nature’s old knights were looking at them.

      And then?... Your sisters? added the Flower.

      The Little Star looked in turn at those mentioned by the Flower: the Frost, the Old Wind, Princess Winter! Even the magical night that hides unimaginable stories seemed to be reflecting the mysterious brightness given off by the stars, in agreement with the Flower’s words.

      The Star contemplated the sight for a while, weighing her words. Then looked at the Flower:

      I am sorry, but I think I have to leave... he said slowly, with bitterness in his voice.

      It seems that the disappointment experienced on coming back to his native lands he’d left long ago had been much too great, and he could not be easily persuaded to do otherwise. The Flower wanted to make a final plea. The snow mantle covering her fell again to the ground. The frost was sharp at that time of night and, defeated, the Flower fell to her knees.

      You did not even think of my words... she whispered in a voice which was becoming fainter. I am certain that other stars from hereabouts will support you. As for me... I make a pledge to look after you from here on ... Caring for you just like for this seed... she opened her hands widely, while her voice became increasingly fainter.

      A ray of light from above rested on the seed’s warm body in the Flower’s hands: the seed was so clean, translucent, that it instantly mirrored the sky in it!

      It was increasingly cold... The Flower bent over, lowering her head. Large tears started to fall on the seed in her hands:

      I will take care of you like you were my child... she murmured fainter and fainter, holding the seed tighter in her hand. I will bathe you daily in my tears, so that disappointment and sadness would never cover your face. Your charm and confidence shall never again be overshadowed by anything that life throws at you!

      The star looked at her, very much amazed. The Flower’s words were sharper than the tip of an icicle and even purer than its body made of ice! They had managed to pierce the steely armour of disappointment that had branded the star’s soul upon his return! Her words were sincere!

      The Flower felt that his coldness and stony gaze had softened a little.

      Nothing is stronger than flowers’ tears! she continued to whisper. They are so pure, that the creature touching them becomes immortal!

      The Star turned to face her. He seemed to want to absorb these last words of the frozen flower to their full extent! The Flower sensed him doubting his decision, and she kept holding the seed close to her chest, hoping to awaken warm feelings of love and joy in the star’s soul...

      The Star looked around. A mysterious murmur had suddenly started in nature. The echo of the Flower’s words had mingled with the whistle of the Old Wind, giving birth to a new, unheard of song.

      Stay, Little Star! Stay! that winter rhapsody born out of nothingness seemed to whisper to him. You will be bale to shed light over your own lands during late nights when the beautiful moon whispers beautiful love words to the earth. It is the only way to make those words come alive!

      The Frost threw to the skies a wave of glitter gathered from the vaults of heaven, and the Old Wind immediately lifted them up, joining in the winter’s night’s magical song:

      How much pride do other lands take in the stars that watch over them! whispered the magnificent song. Stay... stay... resounded its echo.

      The Star looked at the Flower cowed with cold. He leaned towards her and picked up again the snow mantle and covered her frozen shoulders with it. He scattered the snowflakes that the Frost gathered to throw over her petals, darkening their colour, and he looked into the Flower’s eyes. Large tears hurried down on the frozen cheeks, and by the time they reached the seed’s body they were already frozen, changing into shining little hearts.

      The Star wanted to wipe her tears and he smiled, the first time in a long while.

      All the other stars spontaneously joined him in shining their lights in unison. Because of their light, night disappeared and the moon was transformed into the sun! Apart from the Flower and the Star, all those present disappeared as if through magic. Not even the snaking road, shown just a moment before seemed to ever have existed!

      The Little Flower looked in disbelief at everything that was going on. She thought that maybe the unforgiving Frost had made her pass out and now she was dreaming. No! It was not an illusion. The Star was still there carefully putting the snow mantle back on her shoulders.

      You should know, beautiful Flower, he whispered, that the sacrifice of your tears reaching the altar of sincerity was received! I will stay among the stars that watch over these lands...

      Things had been too much for the Little Flower. Frost had made his mind up about cutting down any life form that dared to confront him. Including the Flower that talked to a star! Her body became weaker, almost ready to fall, but the Star caught her in time! His arms were cold, but the Flower felt safe. The first lights of dawn were going to transport them both towards other worlds, the way it always happens with the stars when Sun comes into his own. Any life form bows down in front of the master of light, to whom the existence of this world is due...

      ...Just like the flower in this little story convinced the Little Star to stay among the stars of his native lands, Adriana was the only person who convinced me from the very start that the Little Frog’s Heart must be born in its mother tongue and not in the language adopted when I left the lands where I was born. Emigrating, choosing other destinations at some point in your life is not the easiest choice. And you do not always do it because this is what you want! Of course, many things of value have been thus stymied, often because of the ignorance of the people we choose to leave behind!

      Having a gifted editor beside me, having recognised mentors from the literary field, and having you, my dear readers, always close to me, even if I am a writer just starting on this road, I hold the conviction that we can, together, pave our road to success within the wider world literature!

      Worldwide, we are now the witnesses of a new literary current: from the remains of postmodernism a new type of literature is emerging. Maybe it does not have a name yet. We can use the notion of magical realism (encountered here and there), but I believe that we would not be wrong if we’d call it neo-humanist literature. The conceptual sources of this literature were seen by some in the doctrines of Fromm and Maslow. What I think it is absolutely phenomenal about this new current is the fact that it easily wins over the hearts and minds of children, but also whilst, at the same time, touching the lives of many adults.

      A Little Frog’s Heart fits almost ideally in the conception of this phenomenon: Magical realism and neo-humanist ideology!

      Let us take the third step…

      Here we are, reaching the third volume of the wonderful series of tales that proceed from each other, like in a modern version of the story cycle of Arabian Nights. So, let us steep ourselves again in reading, and let us take a third step. The difference is that we do not have only one Scheherazade in the Little Frog’s Heart story cycle, but a few of them. The narrator, in whom I like to see an alter ego of the author, is telling a story; the Flea and his new friend, the Silk Worm, are also telling a story. The Flea more so, as his life experience is longer and richer; the Worm less, as he is still very young. Mother Drop also tells a story, but not that much in this volume, because she is withdrawn in a restorative sleep or in deep meditation. The Flea’s stories are ingenious and charming, and the Silk Worm’s inquisitiveness is full of surprise: you almost see in him a human little one who does not stop asking questions: what?, how? and, especially, the celebrated why? which children all around the world would have asked many a time. In order to carry on the spark of life, they need to find out about it and about the world around.

      And let me not forget – as usual, the stories of the Flea’s Grandfather’s wisdom are extraordinary, whether they happen deep underground where the Evil One has a say, or – in the heights of Heaven, close to the Lord of the Universe. From amongst the brilliantly witty stories that are exchanged by the Flea and Silk Worm, the two episodes of almost mythological nature, somehow coming to us via popular Christianity, but beautifully drawn and with their own brand of originality, stand out like royal mint, even if they are, up to a certain extent, broken down into several episodes along the entire volume.

      At the end of this short introductory text, I can only wish you a good read and good focus as the story becomes richer and more complex than you have known it in the previous volumes. My thoughts go also to the author, wishing him good health and bountiful imagination, both of which are conducive to the continuation of his successful story-telling that we, the readers have become familiar with over the last couple of volumes. These are out wishes to him, as the well-deserving and gifted writer of the series. As for us, the readers, good health and a light heart are all we need to keep welcoming and read on the ever fascinating tales that are still to come.

      16 March 2011, in Iaşi

      Liviu Antonesei

      I am so glad to see you again, dear children,

      >Our series continues! The 3rd volume in the Little Frog’s Heart series, meaningfully entitled The Stellar Waltz of Life, presents to you a new series of interesting adventures of the characters you already love.

      Following up on an already familiar pattern, I shall continue, in the foreword to this book, to recount the circumstances which led to the coming into the world of this story.

      I wish a pleasant read to those who are now joining us.

      Jailhouse Story III

      I felt an unparalleled peace flooding my soul. I breathed in deeply. I was content with that start of the New Year. For the first time in two years of incarceration, I managed to see in my dream my beloved family back home. Of course, the visit had been shadowed by that black tomcat, which had been probably sent after me by the harsh rules of the prison: Until you served the full sentence, there was no hope of redemption in that place!

      The thought that I had still so much time to spend between those cold and unwelcoming walls made my heart sink. But I came back to myself quickly, because the moments in my dreams when I had managed to see my mother’s face, which I missed dearly, made up for all the sorrow. There had also been the kind warden on duty that morning: his kindness had given me hope! When you are in prison, there are few people who cared whether you stayed healthy and safe. I was lucky to have come across one of them.

      This last thought made me smile. Maybe Heaven rewarded me for doing something right, offering me these happy moments? But exactly what for? I asked myself.

      The story which I had started the previous evening suddenly came to mind. I turned around automatically, like a toy on springs. My eyes fell on the Candle on the table.

      I wonder if she’s all right? I voiced out my concern, angry at myself for having forgetten about her.

      My candle slept peacefully; she was leaning her head on the toilet paper roll. She had not moved from the position I’d left her in the morning. You could see she’d had a deep sleep, after an entire night of work alongside me. I then looked at the notebook I’d just finished. The biro was also sleeping, on the notebook, in the same position I’d left him the previous evening.

      That meant the Wind had kept his word: for the first time since I had been locked in the cell, he had touched nothing. Full off gratitude for him, I turned my gaze to the window. It was getting darker, and the Wind spied on me with begging eyes: he wanted me to allow him inside the cell again.

      I went to the window. I didn’t have the heart to let him stay out there, especially after I saw he’d kept his promises. I was ready to put forward the terms of a new pact:

      You will get inside the cell, but only tomorrow morning. I need warmth during the night, in order to be able to continue my story. Please, don’t be upset!

      The Wind became happier. He nodded his head that yes, he understood: he agreed to my proposition. He turned back without commenting on anything else and started to jump for joy in the prison yard, twirling and swirling snowflakes in his dance. Big and fluffy, like those in children’s stories, they seemed to be coming down on the world straight from the big sieve of Heaven.

      I stepped away from the window, glad that everything that surrounded me had become alive. Getting closer to the little table, I sat on the chair and I slowly took the roll of toilet paper from around the body of the Candle, careful not to wake her up. But I needed her help; it was getting dark outside! So I took the matchbox and, giving birth to a small, reddish flame, I lit the Candle’s wick. She was sleepy; she started to melt slowly, shining away in the warm flame, and then she opened her eyes. Stretching out her hands, her mouth also was distorted by a yawn that could easily compete with the opening of her arms. Seeing me in front of her eyes and noticing I was feeling well, she was very glad:

      Good morning! she said in a crystalline voice.

      It is good, but it’s already evening! I answered joyously. The two good sisters, the day and the night, are just swapping places amongst themselves.

      The Candle looked to the window. A smile appeared on her face, giving away her great joy: she was becoming once again the mistress of the dark cell. She raised her eyes and, with delicate vanity, she started to arrange her lively flame with pride. She was like a princess who takes care of the finishing touches in her coiffure, every morning, in front of the mirror, getting ready to put on the golden crown adorned with diamantine sparkle, the crown which she places carefully on a forehead behind which unblemished thoughts of pure love are hidden.

      In her turn, my Candle took care to accomplish her mission with maximum responsibility: she wanted her light to reach to the most hidden corners of the cell, and she wanted me to take pleasure in her enjoyable company!

      The biro woke up at the same time. I picked it up, while placing on the bed the notebook I’d filled up the previous night. The table was quite small, but I tried to get myself in the most comfortable position I could for writing.

      Slowly and carefully, I rolled out the toilet paper keeping the end in front of me on the table, while holding the body on my lap: it was very thin. I was ready to write:

      So, shall we continue what we started last night? asked the Candle.

      Indeed, I replied with affection, nodding my head gently.

      Master,I want to ask you for a favour: if it’s not too much of a bother, could you whisper the words for me while writing? I’d love to hear the story! came her request, so warm that I would not have turned her down for the world.

      I watched you writing last night, and I could only imagine your focus and enthusiasm.. Your eyes sparkled with excitement at the mysteries you were deciphering in your imaginary travels. I felt you did not want to be interrupted by anyone, added the Candle, meaningfully. I was trying to read, but you know I did not attend school... she added with regret. Curiosity is killing me : I couldn’t even sleep properly today! she said sounding pretty convincing..

      I smiled, winking at her:

      I will definitely whisper the story to you..., I told her, watching her closely.

      So, I started to write, whispering the rest of the story.I was supposed to use the toilet paper roll accorrding to the plan I’d made that morning! Unfortunately, it was not possible: the words did not set on it as they should!

      My first thought was that the ink in the biro had come to an end, not just my notebook.

      Lord, anything but this! I said, horrified at the thought.

      I quickly unscrewed it in order to check it. It was not the biro’s fault: it still had a little ink in it, sufficient for that night, I think. Even for the following day, if I still had the power to continue to work. I blew some air in the biro’s cartridge, rubbing it in my hands, as I often did in my childhood, in school, during frosty days when the classroom’s stove was cold and empty of crackling burning coal. I put it closer to the Candle’s flame, too. Tense with expectation, I put the cartridge back in the biro and tried again. Same result: it did not write!

      I wonder what is happening. I asked myself worried. Why won’t it write? I checked it on all sides, looking for a reason.

      But I did not find any explanation. I turned my eyes to the Candle, at a loss for ideas.

      Maybe the poor wretch needs some warmth? she gave her opinion. You know that a frozen object is good for nothing, except for piercing whatever comes at hand, including a wise heart. Don’t forget that the cool wind of winter was here in your cell all day long, and he did whatever he liked while we were sleeping! the Candle said, slightly bothered. "Last time he entered the cell uninvited (least, not by me!), and he picked on the biro for nothing... He slammed the biro’s little head on the floor, that the

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