The poseur picaro was self-satisfied. How easy, he mused, was it to impress this nubile Kyrgyz artist with tales of New York, Paris and Odesa. She was purring and turning in her seat like a cat in heat. He declared he would make her a great artist, promising introductions to artists, poets, philosophers…Baltic ex-presidents and other intellectual aiders and abettors. From his bag he pulled out a black address book and journals as tangible props in his performance. How vulgar it would be to merely scroll through a list of contacts or notes on a mobile phone?
Bishkek was so provincial. Plucking hearts was as easy as picking wild Arslanbob apples in Autumn. An apple in Kyrgyz is called ‘alma’. In the words of Pablo Neruda and Carlos Drummond de Andrade, ‘alma’ is the soul… How easy...
"Fácil é dar um beijo.
Difícil é entregar a alma. Sinceramente, por inteiro.
Fácil é sair com várias pessoas ao longo da vida.
Difícil é entender que pouquíssimas delas vão te aceitar como você é e te fazer feliz por inteiro.
Fácil é ocupar um lugar na caderneta telefônica.
Difícil é ocupar o coração de alguém. Saber que se é realmente amado.
Fácil é sonhar todas as noites.
Difícil é lutar por um sonho…
Eterno é tudo aquilo que dura uma fração de segundo, mas com tamanha
intensidade, que se eterniza, e nenhuma força jamais o resgata."
Carlos Drummond de Andrade
Suddenly a silhouette appears of an Ak-Kalpak atop a broad figure in the doorway. The Manaschi had returned filled with the wrath of the epic poems he recites. He steals the fair artist and gallops towards the mountains. He keeps her hostage on the shores of Lake Issyk-kul until she succumbs to tradition….
Back in Paris he shows his journal to a friend and sighs 'ala kachuu’. His friend replies ‘Bless you’.
I don’t know who Triston is but a) please start spelling Odesa as he rightly does, and b) thank him for me, I had a good laugh imagining you somewhere outside Cholpon-Ata astride a horse at partial canter with said kidnapped lass, your ascot aflutter.
I’m a “I eat Chicken Kiev in Kyiv” guy still so I probably know where you are headed with this, but interested to hear your take on the Odessa/Odesa debate. Regardless your Ukie creds are ssafe given you burned your imperial pasport there if I am not misstaken
The poseur picaro was self-satisfied. How easy, he mused, was it to impress this nubile Kyrgyz artist with tales of New York, Paris and Odesa. She was purring and turning in her seat like a cat in heat. He declared he would make her a great artist, promising introductions to artists, poets, philosophers…Baltic ex-presidents and other intellectual aiders and abettors. From his bag he pulled out a black address book and journals as tangible props in his performance. How vulgar it would be to merely scroll through a list of contacts or notes on a mobile phone?
Bishkek was so provincial. Plucking hearts was as easy as picking wild Arslanbob apples in Autumn. An apple in Kyrgyz is called ‘alma’. In the words of Pablo Neruda and Carlos Drummond de Andrade, ‘alma’ is the soul… How easy...
"Fácil é dar um beijo.
Difícil é entregar a alma. Sinceramente, por inteiro.
Fácil é sair com várias pessoas ao longo da vida.
Difícil é entender que pouquíssimas delas vão te aceitar como você é e te fazer feliz por inteiro.
Fácil é ocupar um lugar na caderneta telefônica.
Difícil é ocupar o coração de alguém. Saber que se é realmente amado.
Fácil é sonhar todas as noites.
Difícil é lutar por um sonho…
Eterno é tudo aquilo que dura uma fração de segundo, mas com tamanha
intensidade, que se eterniza, e nenhuma força jamais o resgata."
Carlos Drummond de Andrade
Suddenly a silhouette appears of an Ak-Kalpak atop a broad figure in the doorway. The Manaschi had returned filled with the wrath of the epic poems he recites. He steals the fair artist and gallops towards the mountains. He keeps her hostage on the shores of Lake Issyk-kul until she succumbs to tradition….
Back in Paris he shows his journal to a friend and sighs 'ala kachuu’. His friend replies ‘Bless you’.
Nice…. Bravo…but it was not her heart string that was plucked
I don’t know who Triston is but a) please start spelling Odesa as he rightly does, and b) thank him for me, I had a good laugh imagining you somewhere outside Cholpon-Ata astride a horse at partial canter with said kidnapped lass, your ascot aflutter.
Yes my creditability is safe - and yes I should write about it
Whoever he is he is seriously funny - but does not take this serious situation seriously enough
Oh Vladislav! We once rode camels around the Great Pyramids at sunset...
I remember full well who you are dear fellow !! Was pretending not too ….! Thanks for this amazing work of literature of a comment
Odessa is an important debate - maybe I should write about this
I’m a “I eat Chicken Kiev in Kyiv” guy still so I probably know where you are headed with this, but interested to hear your take on the Odessa/Odesa debate. Regardless your Ukie creds are ssafe given you burned your imperial pasport there if I am not misstaken
You sshould!
You're a man out-of-time.
Thanks !!
Nobody gets into the kind of misadventures like Vlad does.
Only way to love and live