მეთოდი დაპატენტებულია:)
და ვიდეო განწყობისთვის, რომასგან:
ყველას გილოცავთ წმ. ვალენტინის დღეს:)
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სიყვარული
All posts tagged სიყვარული
რამდენი ამის მსგავსი მუსიკალური ვიდეო, კადრი კინოფილმიდან მინახავს, კიდევ უფრო ცოტა – მაგრამ ბევრი – წამიკითხავს ფურცელზე და რა თქმა უნდა, მომისმენია. ყოველივე ეს ახლობელი იყო ჩემთვის, ან მინდოდა რომ ასე ყოფილიყო. თუმცა, ამ ისტორიების ფიქციურობის გაცნობიერების მიუხედავად, რატომღაც მჯეროდა რომ ოდესმე, მსგავსი რამ მეც უნდა გადამხდენოდა.
კი, იყო სიყვარული. ბევრი სიყვარული. არც თუ ისე სიყვარული, მაგრამ ბევრი. მაგრამ, დროა გამოვაცხადო, რომ რომანტიკა ჩემს ცხოვრებაში მოკვდა:) ყოველ შემთხვავაში, ჩემი მხრიდან:) პანდორას ყუთი ნაშთით:)
By Teona Dolenjashvili
Translated by me :)))
15:00
The leader is carrying an avocado and honey. I’m making a rice salad. I never liked making dinners, and even here I couldn’t hide from this boring work. Sali is just 17, Nazira never enters the kitchen. It turned out that she was making a soup when her children were killed – 5-year-old boy and 3-year-old girl. How did it happen – I don’t know. She never talks about that and always looks at her watch. As if a timer was started for her and she’s waiting for a moment to come back to life.
We silently dine. Sali makes coffee. One of her pink lips is cut and now she stirs a silver spoon in a cup with her lissom fingers. Her brother brought her here. They kissed each other at the door. “We will meet each other in heaven, fidai,” – her brother said to her and left. She’s got chestnut-coloured hair down to her waist. Once the leader asked her to shorten it but she did quite the contrary – dyed and loosened it. She seems to be a bit self-willed. I personally think, that there’s no sense in being concerned about your hair when you’re getting ready to die.
My name is Aminat. I turned 26 in November. I’ve just had my last dinner. Now I’m smoking and looking through a window with my foggy eyes. A narrow Paris street can be seen from that window as well as a bookshop – a parallel world, where Parisian girls go and read books.
I have also read a book. I borrowed it from the leader. It was about the Mulhids, the fortress of Alamut and Fidais – the first suicide bombers. Today I know that I will never finish reading it, although I marked the pages read with a tanned pin – or maybe I will need that pin later for something…
15:10
I’m standing in front of the mirror putting an eye makeup. I fasten laces on my trainers. Put a rucksack on my shoulders and hide wires in my sleeves. In short – I’m getting ready. The leader has already explained what to do to me. Grandiose exhibition-action takes place at the Impressionists’ at 5 o’clock. There will be some senators too. That’s exactly where I’m going to explode… I say goodbye to the girls. Once again I check all the wires and the clock. Sali smiles and waves her hand “See you soon, Aminat!” – She calls me. That felt exactly like her brother…
15:20
I’m going along the shiny stairs of the subway full of advertisements. I travel on the second Charles de Gaulle line. The train rushes along the wet rails as well as this world in front of me. I observe the passengers. People are lost in their own depths. There could be someone among them who might share my happiness and come to the fascinating, magnificent gardens of death with me. Maybe some of them could even understand that this bright, shiny life is a lie and that the truth is somewhere else.
15:32
Streets are always strange. I’m scanning the shops and cafes that line the avenue. I enter the small, elegant boutique and choose the most beautiful scarf. “It’s a marvellous piece of Batik work,” – the seller tries to praise my choice approaching the desk and carefully packing it. I pay and write an address on the package. It’s a very expensive purchase; I don’t feel sorry for the money. This is my last gift. My mother will receive it tomorrow in the morning, on her birthday.
15:37
I’ve decided to take a rest somewhere. It’s just 15:30 and there’s a whole eternity before me. Time stretches infinitely, endlessly… La Campos café is a very nice place. I sit close to the glazed wall so that I can see the street. I like watching people bustling and running to different places. Everyone’s in a hurry to get somewhere – an exhibition, a lunch or a date – in time when there’s only one way to go and everyone will get there in the end, but probably with different tickets.
Garcon is carrying coffee and fried almonds. The coffee is as thick and flavoured as chocolate. Here are sour-ish cherries and dried peaches too. What a pity! I can’t take off my rucksack and comfortably laze in the chair. I drink the coffee with a bomb in my rucksack.
15:45
The café is unanimously, equally fizzing. Impressionists’ front can be seen from the window. Someone is rustling a newspaper at the opposite table. That will be me on the front page of all the newspapers tomorrow, and my countless brothers and sisters will be proud of me. Oh, how strange, even dying people can’t stop thinking about the future that doesn’t exist and has already ended for them.
I feel that someone is staring at me…
15:50
— Do you mind if I sit at your table? All the other places are taken; — He’s an Arab guy wearing a black t-shirt and worn jeans.
He’s ordering pizza… looks like he’s got a real appetite…
— They are very good in this place, aren’t they? – He smiled – My name is Tamir, and yours?
— Aminat.
— You’re just as beautiful as your name, — He quickly felt at home. Maybe he realizes that I don’t have enough time.
— Are you always so flirtatious when you meet people first?
— No. This is my first time. Before I sat down I was watching you from a distance. You have wonderful eyes.
I look at my watch.
— Are you in a hurry?
— Yup. They are waiting for me in heaven.
— I would also accompany you with pleasure. I’m sure that every place you visit will be like heaven.
Flirting seems to be very him. I like conversing with him. It wouldn’t be bad if I leave this world with one more acquaintance.
Tamir offers me an orange juice. He talks about himself. He seems to have graduated from university. Now he works in a bank. Wandering in the streets of Paris, cinematography and football are the things he likes.
— And what do you do for a living? – He tries to guess my occupation.
— I’m a fidai and I’m going to explode exactly in an hour, — I know he’s not going to believe it and that’s why I tell him the truth. He just laughs and tells me that only a strange-eyed girl like me can make such things up.
— Who are you going to blow up?
— Just several senators. Maybe some innocent people too. But there’s nothing to worry about. The French already consider every Arab to be a terrorist.
— Let the others take care of politics. You have to bring up your children.
— But tomorrow my child could also get killed.
— And so you have decided to take the initiative?
I’m looking towards the gallery. The first visitors have already arrived at the exhibition.
— You don’t understand. Probably you never will. I will be a huriah in heavens and I’m going to take seventy close friends with me.
He looks straight into my eyes. He stares at me for a long time, like out of sympathy.
— Why are you saying such things? Is that because you are already fed up with your life? – He asks me quietly and softly.
— No. Why do you say that? I love my life very much. That’s why I’m in a hurry.
We stare at each other as if we were bewitched. Where did this guy come from? Why now when I have just twenty minutes left until I die. Why did I let him go so far, why am I telling him the things I have never told anyone before. And why is he looking at me like that…
— And how much are you paid for this job? – He tries to smile.
— Well enough. I could have lived my whole life with a complete lack of concern upon it, but I won’t need money anymore. They would have sent money to my family, but I’ve decided to transfer it to Palestinian orphans.
— And how is it like… to die?
— I think it’s going to be cool. I already feel it. I have never been so happy before.
Tamir becomes more serious. He crushes his cigarette into the thick, transparent glass ashtray and bends down to me. I feel his breath and life. I get lost and avert my eyes…
16:25
Is it possible to fall in love in a few minutes? Now everything is possible, I guess. This is an illusion. A seducing illusion that is turning me upside-down, an intoxicator of existence is tying me up with a transient net and exploring new, undiscovered spaces for me…
— You look like a femme fatal, — Tamir says to me – That’s so good that I came here, to La Campos and met you. I have never felt this way before.
— This is madness. I’m sorry, I have to go. – It’s time to end this dangerous game with life.
— Don’t go. I beg you, — Tamir catches my hand, — if you leave now, I think that I will never meet you again. Just for a few more minutes…
He doesn’t understand that a few minutes mean the rest of my life, the only life that I have left… that I don’t have a right to delay, neither to think nor to love because thought is fear, feeling – weakness.
— I’m really in a great hurry. I will go now… and meet you tomorrow.
His eyes brighten up. Once again I’m witnessing the fact that we can only believe what we wish.
— Right here, right at this time, — I think his voice trembles too. His naïve, childish simple-heartedness is charming me. My heart runs dry. Nonsense! Unheard of and unimaginable nonsense, but I do love him.
— Yup. Right here, right at this time, — I whisper to him hiding my eyes. My eyelashes become damp.
Now, what do I need these useless sentiments for… again, I feel his hot breath. His lips are touching mine… the noise of the street, hissing, buzzing disappears in a distance. I become wrapped in a white, heady, virginal fog… I’m drowning…
16:43
We part near the entrance of the Impressionists’ exhibition. I don’t want him to see me entering the gallery. That’s why Tamir leaves first and follows the long, colourful street with hands in his pockets. Piece by piece the sun comes out of the clouds. Buildings are shelling just like an egg. It seems that the street stretches endlessly on and runs into the sky…
I enter the central hall of the gallery with wires in my hand. The hall is full of visitors. People in uniforms are also around. My intuition sharpens, feelings become highly abrupt. My mind begins to work more quickly. I know exactly what to do, where to go, what to say and how to smile so that nobody will cast any doubt on me.
I step lightly, scanning the works of the neo-impressionists. Braque, Picasso, Leger… — portraits divided into cubes and triangles, still lives, landscapes — very beautiful paintings, a bit aggressive, a bit mad, a bit strange. Artworks created on the edge of reality and abstraction, harmony and disharmony, order and chaos are drawing my attention and I believe that its authors felt the same way I do now.
The senators have just arrived. There are numerous reporters and art critics here. I’m not looking at the people. It’s seems to me that their bodies and faces are divided into elementary geometric figures… colours are very shiny… too much noise… I’m getting tense and sweat over the wires in my fist … death is thrilling on my fingers…
16:55
Thoughts are mixing up in my head. Delaunay’s “Circular Forms” – in my eyes… in exactly five minutes everything will come to an end. It’s not true when they say that the whole of your life goes by in front of your eyes. There was nothing going by or back. For some reason, Tamir waiting at La Campos, green gardens and a sandy sea-shore was all I could think of and it was for a moment only.
Then everything mixed completely up with the noisy space of the gallery. Next to one of the senators I saw my father who died long time ago. He was wearing an old, worn caftan with a teacup in his hand. With darkened eyes he was staring at Picabia’s monumental monochromic picture. He didn’t even look at me but then Bayatt came close to me who exploded in the airplane two months ago. He pulled in his Shahid belt and smiled to me. “I don’t need anybody’s help” — I whispered to him realizing that I was in a death-trance.
In the corner of the exhibition violins began to play. No, this is not a part of my lively imagination. They are really playing. The exhibition is opening. Cameras are clicking and the hiss of society talking to each other is being replaced by nice music. I’m in luck. Debussy’s music and Picasso’s paintings are seeing me off to the other side – the best thing that a miserable human being can create.
I’m approaching to the senators. Obviously there will many victims. It’s time! I prepare the wires and… blood freezes in my veins… Tamir is standing in the entrance of the hall and he’s looking straight at me!..
16:59
I shouldn’t have lost the time but I was so stunned that I couldn’t even move… the sunshine coming from the huge windows of the gallery is playing on Tamir’s face. He comes close to me smiling and blocks my way to Allah. Just a little more and I will see him off to the other side. How to stop him? How? How?
The visible world is breaking apart like the embossed compositions on cubic canvases and it sails past in front of my eyes. I close my eyes. No, everything’s late… the decision is already made. The sentence is already passed! I’m sorry, Tamir! Can you see? I shiver allover, my heart beats like crazy and my weak, blue fingers are yield to an end…
Ingrown wires on my palms dilate like blood vessels… the distance between two fateful endings becomes smaller… hands, bodies, souls combine and a mortal circle forms!
Didn’t I tell you I was a fidai?
