“It was like an oak tree in whose shade we let ourselves be embraced and which drew its sap from our souls and warmed itself in the summer of our eyes.”
One of the activities of the Brătianu family, which became a tradition in the life of the poet Ion Pillat and then of his son Dinu, was to be in constant contact with contemporary writers. […] At these pleasant and simple banquets, followed by discussions, I participated with Dinu, Marie Pillat presiding at one end of the table and asking me to preside at the other. It seemed to me that angels were flying above us. […]