Dorin Mircea Ratiu is a traveler.
In a symbolism dissimilar to the rhythm of the paper, we would call him an ambassador, a representative of this omnipresent realm, in which, obediently, conscious or not, we all manifest ourselves in the most sublime and irrational way, flowing through our passages, and consuming our own voyage amidst nothing. The nothingness before existence, and the nothingness that follows it. They all merge in the burden that most of us carry, without-fault or without-will, burning our existence, supported by this sole clear certitude, nothingness.
Awaken to this without-meaning, we survive and take refuge in the rhetoric of flickering feelings, as philosophers of the ephemeral seconds’ apologetic universe. This is the space where Dorin Mircea Ratiu negotiates contours, acquires shapes, leaves volumes and summons colours, exercising his assumed role of unnamed representative before the one without-end Time. By robbing away its seconds, he will turn from an anonymous person into a traveller, then the traveller will become a prince, and at times ... the prince becomes a king.
Sabin Mircea Rus