Relu continued his work, but as days went by his helpmates noticed he was more cheerful, even more he started to hum the same song: “I loved you …” The normally reaction process he had to answer between an order and the execution were getting longer, sometimes after he was executing it they become others than the needed ones. Fixing a timber he was close to “get it into the head” of the helpmate that employed him here. This one, with a firm move, caught his arm and turned it. Relu had an impersonal look, a lost one. He was going crazy. He was working only from automatism. If it hadn’t have been for his own force and skills not only that he wouldn’t have won anything but he might not have lived. They took him to the doctor. He took him to “bolondhaz”. From in there the family came and took him home. He is a calm patient after how volcanic he used to be. One thing they cannot stop him to do. He wakes up daily at four o’clock. He dresses up in his overall, takes the lamp and haversack and leaves … at the mine. He gets there, and looks at the gallery’s opening. He goes at the “lamparie” (the place in the mine where they keep the lamps) and gets back home. Then, like none of this had happen, he does the house holding work, without saying anything to anyone. He eats only when the dinner is ready. If you head a plate towards him, he takes it and runs away to come back whenever God wants. Doctors have declined their competence in his behavior. Maybe this is how he would end his life.

On the holy day of Saint Varvara, 2001
Baia-Mare – Ilba Handal

Epilogue:
A man has died. Many other will too after how the Almighty has disposed. Now there are also others that decide, that think of themselves as gods and that wish to never hear again about these people, the mine diggers, people that, working alongside death, besides life they have nothing else to loose. Their courage is the threat to those who think they are gods and that will soon realize they are also just some mortals and after they will loose their power they wouldn’t even be mentioned. But the harm was already done; they got mining and the mine digger into collapse, into tearing pieces.
Meanwhile in the town, of which seal was the symbol of a mine entrance and the signs of mining, were “raised” three gratitude of mining that started to anguish too. These attributes once treasured by the city inhabitants, now “The mine digger resting”, a statue from the Scholar Mining Team’s yard hasn’t got its nose anymore and it is “flourished” in graphitic. The mine digger statue from the front of the Theater has letter “N” fallen down from the votive welcome, and the first stone ruptured with a “Flottman” in 1912, with the first hammer drill of this kind used in the “baimarean” mining, settled in the town park, after how it is being taken care of dogs are the only ones to leave signs on it, then the townsmen respect. All these visible signs of degradation are because the town was born and kept going under the same branch. The rout from the mining spreads with its state and lack of interest the other people too, that were living among mining. After the revolution the church from the park, built with the massive contribution of the mine diggers from 1942 to 1943 began to loose its parishioners. It is unknown yet if the mining decay is responsible too for these state of the population, but for us is the first time when we see that a town that grew up and existed through years of mining, has perplexed. Nobody knows what we’ll become, or what is next …