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