Partita No. 3

"Sit down. I'm going to play a tune for you. Hmm... what about Sebastian Bach? For a year, you've just paid a brief visit twice and it seems to me that you get enough of it. It's okay. I just don't know whether, after this evening, you will come again...." (Partita No. 3 in E for Solo Violin) "A good opening for your new short story," said Anna. "Maybe," I replied. My eyes looked into Anna's blue eyes, penetrating the kitchen wall, passing over the meadow, crossing the river, coming...
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"Sit down. I'm going to play a tune for you. Hmm... what about Sebastian Bach? For a year, you've just paid a brief visit twice and it seems to me that you get enough of it. It's okay. I just don't know whether, after this evening, you will come again...." (Partita No. 3 in E for Solo Violin) "A good opening for your new short story," said Anna. "Maybe," I replied. My eyes looked into Anna's blue eyes, penetrating the kitchen wall, passing over the meadow, crossing the river, coming into the forest depth, and seeing the woman...." (One Thousand Seagulls of Narrawa) He did see a pale hand with delicate fingers, dancing in a quiet space, at a cold night, with a little wind. At a glance, gladioli, red roses, and fern leaves had grown into a living painting on a small pot, black, and a parrot was flapping a pair of the dark wings.... (Awake) An army of soldiers was practicing marching with the full force in distance. One could hear someone giving a cue. The marching songs shed those dry season leaves. The telephone was ringing incessantly. I finally struggled to unplug the cord. I stowed away under a dining table.... (Silhouette) "You will die. Somewhere, in the sea. A whale will swallow your body. You will not be reborn, as a better human being, worse, or just average. Not like other living beings, tigers, groupers, or herons, for instance. You have no enemies, but there will be someone loving to hear you dying...." (I Know, I Will Die, in the Sea) He thought the time had come. Some sort of ritual farewells with his life crossed his mind. Crossing his mind to write a long letter (but, to whom?), then having a shower, making a cup of hot coffee milk, playing a song by George Harrison, My Sweet Lord, or writing a poem.... (A Knife) "Please don't laugh, Doc," I struck her first with a serious facial expression and with an Al Pacino's theatrical gesture behind a wooden pulpit when he was starting to give a speech as a New York mayor in front of the Japanese executives in the City Hall.... (An Ulcer) Far below, the cars were crawling slowly. The rain caused a traffic jam. Such a big city disease. People were passing by, bringing umbrellas. They were rushing around, like being chased by something. A group of teenagers offered the rented umbrellas. They walked behind the umbrellas' tenants and let the rain wet their heads, faces and bodies.... (Rendezvous) I almost jumped to immediately open it. I saw him standing with a cheerful smile, a quiet gesture, as usual. And what I always missed: his sullen eyes. A happy smile and a sad look, lips and eyes, so close the distance, so much the difference. Was this man created from the paradox? (Because Rinana is Gone)