ie one day Lisa Frondowicza.
(or Kris?, Szewc?)
Part One. Early morning
Motto:
"... I have to do something like this, that this view of the whole save lives, or at least I have here some form to this view, and that beauty does not offend my inattention, and hurry. "
JM Rymkiewicz
is thirty six o'clock, Thursday, Jan. measure, this year.
frosty and snowy, January morning wakes up grudgingly. Hero of Stories This looks out the window onto the garden, where two weeks snowy spruce stand as pilgrims're gray foot in the snow.
There are these old spruce trees Burbiszek, among whom Mr. Skiłądź urządzał poor Żydkom American racing, to identify the recipient of its grain. Oh no. Not yet reached adulthood, and already gray! What a beautiful sight and what a consolation for the hassle of getting up at dawn! This is the first time in many years that the miracle of a white New Year still remains on the branches, creates a fluffy rug instead of the lawn and did not get bored. Rare phenomenon lasting freshness. Better than a Christmas tree after New Year. And just a feeling of freshness guarantee wealth of experience.
Estate Alders is eighteen, counting the night minutes from the northern district of left-bank Warsaw. Including passage through the dilapidated, pogierkowski, the uncovered about 10 years too late bridge.
to bring family members to work and school on the 8-husband, the hero of Stories This has yet to move out before the seventh of the dog. To go home from ten to seven. If at all able to choose for this time of dreams, not to count on a favorable coincidence, or moderate congestion without incident.
sparingly estate is packed in a strip of land between the road and the charming provincial groove with proud, the royal name. It is nice design, but above all a good thing that at all.
all fours, with the last segment Szewc are arranged obliquely in relation to the street. In this way, standing on the balcony, we have almost an amphitheater estate perspective. All fours on the other side, although they stand parallel to the road, but thanks to that, together with the opposite form an acute angle, is a theatrical impression is preserved.
arrangement Market in the suburban bedroom, unfortunately, nothing helped, and the market is pointless with two wegetującymi parterre shops, but it is nicer than the nouveau riche neighborhoods, where palaces mingled with landarami are scattered across the ground as the effect of political debate, and roads in housing estates like the poor, rural parochialism. This quiet, nameless city planner, who in the late eighties rozrysował estate plan, often accompanied by a hero in my mind while walking, as the good spirit of the place. The guy had to like his job and the men whom he had imagined, as inhabitants of the world created by himself.
Now, however, is ambiguous hero, niechętno-friendly attitude towards compulsory, having a hygienic and spiritual values, a morning walk. You go through a field covered with disorderly zeschłymi kwiatostanami Tanacetum, which are covered with stumps and caps, cotton flakes (even those flakes persist, a miracle!). Once, for half a year, this field Tanacetum, high even for one and a half meters, will be shown in a different beauty. Now is their winter, fleeting five minutes. It looks like a tiny, tiny tumultuous storm, winter, snow-covered forest.
Rudy mongrel ahead of his master, Gulliver's retired, and runs like an arrow, a dog - a giant, wide, tiny way, at an angle to the poplars planted kanałku, now looks like a big trough filled with frozen cream, oddly suited to the snow-covered spruce trees from the opposite shore.
Fortunately at this time - and no fuss with the males - not niewczesnych courtship of females. Low, but the spacious, yet dark sky, paved with smooth, professionally, clouds. Without no seams. Brownish-gray in the west and betray the daybreak in the east, still continues. None of the smooth air bell does not ring. Too dark, too cold, too early. In about a mile distant czterystuletnim you call the church for a morning Mass. only half an hour.
Silence. Just crunch zmrożonego snow.
little time. Not enough to contemplate this raw moment.
hero, accompanied by the frosty crunch, thinking about a certain Szewcu and a Fox. I started discovering that, indeed, exclusive, but by not less onerous, it had got trouble!
Once, a hundred years ago, one of Italy brought to life something of the six figures. Pirandello. And they began to form behind him to walk around ... I
Lisek - Ancymon, young and foolish, he read 40 years ago, even in the original, because then insisted that a properly learn Italian. To communicate at work, shop, and banter with the company. But his passion - books, was the most important.
Few understand these bizarre, elaborate the problems that plagued szwendające after the theater form. He preferred to Lampedusa. And a traditional, beautiful story about an old, good, but a little spoiled, ending the world, Mediterranean landscapes, the azure, the Italian sky.
przeintelektualizowana It's better than the story in a closed room and let her Italian theater.
Well, who is the hero?
to a hundred thousand pairs of shoes, do not know! Narrator - Kris, and Fox, because I do not think Shoemaker?
You babo cake! Old Fox has created, like the sorcerer's apprentice, a character Szewc, barely a sketch, like a standard avatar for Frondzie.
And now? Is this cobbler is walking behind him, whether he is looking for him? Experience increases the sensitivity of the literary story-teller? It took 40 years and some imagined problem of forgotten writer proves life. A Platonic realism in relation to the characters begins to scorch, and longing.
Suddenly Ancymon wciął the conversation ...
- I know, Ancymonie, the Nobel Prize before the war, they did not have to just anyone. But if you are already what it was about six of the characters? You see, I have now the problem creatively.
- do not quite understand what it is - is responsible Ancymon arrogantly - I do not write, but I thought that I can. But we had to focus on doing projects. Then only an Italian writer - he gave me his amateur attempt to assess. He really liked my opinions. But it seems that I was not too kind to his talent. A write better than you do about this Szewcu. His style was associated with the Hemingway short story. Although Hemingway he was not. I told him this. And you even Stasiukiem you're not.
- No mądrzyj to smarkaczu. That is not what I asked. Reviews of such a fool, like you, I'm not interested. Just say what you remember from these six characters?
- And, some nonsense. I bought this book, except for 600 lire, cheap, and I bought everything I could. I bought a Nobel Laureate. I do not even remember if I read it properly. So much of this was ...
- But You're a jerk. Which of you use? And to those reading your Italian? I'll talk with you yet, I do not have time, I have a family drive.
Just seventh, you have to go back. Path along the fence, a neighbor who, lucky, lives at the end of the estate bought as many of the peasants before the Union, so cheap and now it is like in the segment, and really on your own. Almost like you Skiłądź of Burbiszek. Also planted a spruce, but not nine, as a shoemaker, and ninety. Not alley from the gate like Skiłądzia, only spruce hedge around a large garden. And now all the spruces gray and robust, although still gołowąsy, like a trooper.
Shoemaker
It now will take his family to Warsaw? Shoemaker? But he has lived elevation landscapes, spin philosophical meditations. Soon will be, that he has "high metaphor." Shoemaker - philosopher?
No. nieeee. Metaphors are Fox. Shoemaker is a character, not the narrator. Do we always have to give him the inner voice. Simple? Well, I do not know, and who went for a walk? As to who? Fox. A narrator prater these comparisons risky. Well, overlooking the fact that Shoemaker is now unemployed. Too bad. And the risk, having regard to its relative popularity. Okay, how to announce it on Frondzie, perhaps there are good people and will tell. Use the Edit button, and the refine.
It's not so on the strength of these metaphors. But really, this winter is unusual. Maybe this is the last?
Master Rymkiewicz believes that comparisons, metaphors are those clips that form pairs with different lives. This pair is like a stronger and better tolerate adversity. One element of service provides another reflection of the characteristics common to the pair. How many lives have gone, and their pale image can only exist thanks to his hand with a poetic comparison. Master Rymkiewicz shows an example of Pan Tadeusz. And yet the ability to compare should be available even shoemaker! Just a little imagination and knowledge of the specific characteristics of specific things.
You would have to explain this, to overcome the unavoidable, the impulse to describe a rare winter. Podeprzyjmy the authority Rymkiewicz Master, who wrote about Mickiewicz:
"He had to think very loving uniqueness, the uniqueness of each life. (...) This is a battle against the passing of time, marnieniu, broken down. Lemons, squirrels, hats, dresses, mushrooms and clouds are coming - run by him - in the battle against nothingness. "
And what had made the motto, with a view to some Uplift lake.
next quote from the Master's concerns have something else:
"And here you Mareczek makes a terrible and chilling moan: - O God, God, so that I could write. I though one thing, an existence might just described, I though a cloud, a leaf łopucha saved from nothingness. "
Stop, stop. The Master, through the speaking, Mr. Mareczka, kneeling humbly before God and actually - before the bard. And whale tribute to his talent. And now Kris should kneel down in the next, and actually hundredth row and pay homage to the dolphin. As a fish-śmieciojad, eat the teeth out of the remnants of food giants.
I give voice to a Ryczypisk:
not just about that. Not only the lives fastened together in pairs, not only to pay homage to the royal beauty of nature. It's about something as elusive consolidation as admiration. Inside, inexpressible, gleaming weight, which arises in the soul experience with the elusive beauty. This weight is worrying as transient, but strong in pełnokrwistej infatuation, fragrant sandalwood and dressed in muslins, Princess of Fairy Tales of the Thousand and One Nights. And this living irrevocable blanching, charming creatures, how bad the established photographic print.
...
They leave, laboriously floundering niesprzątniętym winter tires in the snow by a narrow street neighborhoods. His wife complains that he does not like winter. Shoemaker that's that pretty, it's probably better than dishwater and Szaruga.
- Yesterday dreamed that was not 10 degrees below zero, only 5 Well, today is five. The Lord God has heard.
- Mhm, but so dark and sad. To at least a little sunshine.
Ride. If an ordinary traffic jam, do not even need to use emergency detours through aspen, where he has already laid the asphalt, and yet not everyone knows. Overburden the road a little, but still worthwhile.
Cars sad flowing one after another, letting the back of the white plumes, as strange as whales. Gray, foggy and slippery, as in the shallow salt water, but hallelujah, and forwards.
...
Rymkiewicz it with those their heroes did not patyczkuje. I do not crawl behind him. Sam takes them to question, once killed, then the clock goes back and talks with them, even inventing them. Well, I have to admit, before a commentator recognizes that the conversation with Ancymonem took from him. Oh, master!
- Do you hear what I'm saying? Drifting again!
- Oh, sorry, I thought that Asia has time to school today because we went a little too late ...
- Akurat! You're lying, again the Fronde! You probably half an hour to devote to the family!
- But do you like my stories ...
- I like, but how much does it cost me. Remember, you called me as soon as you return with the horses!
Young girl gets out, the younger - lies in warming up the car heavily.
Free Poland has not won yet to unlock this gigantic bottle, to which Fox has to squeeze every side of the stopper.
Worst episode - travel to the neck when you have to endure until the last minute to change lanes, the constriction of the former Bridge prowizorki Sirens of martial law, and relief when it opens up American perspective of four-band bridge - the inheritance of Ojczulku Gierku.
narrator quietly so as not to fail to concentrate Lisa during the most difficult portion of the route and do not disturb slumbering, speaks to Ancymona to complain:
- See how by his stupidity wasting an opportunity. Szwendałeś how these unfortunate characters of Louis - Nobel Laureate all over Italy, visited all the major cities of Genoa to Venice, from Bologna to Ravenna, from Milan to Naples. The Vatican? You're welcome. The Leaning Tower? Oh, yes, even in the company of fellow Tuscan, which is not only took you again to Siena, Pisa, but was able to show the simple church, whose austere beauty could be seen in isolation, without the crowds.
- So what? Living so long in Turin, is not thought were appropriate to use the unique opportunity to see the Cathedral and the visitation of the Shroud! But now even talk seriously about literature, you can not!
- visited the Sistine Chapel, and you were able to sit there for hours on paying attention to the prevailing there, hullabaloo, comparable only to a similar uproar in a plundered, unknown for seems even rabusiom, a Catholic monastery in Ukraine. Uczynionym hullabaloo is not by U.S. and Soviet tourists. But it's not your story, but Lisa - medium, Lisa waking up slowly, very slowly. Those hours in the Chapel you save. Cause I did not lose to you residual sympathy. Starting noticed a modest confessional, with attached, scribbled piece of paper: "Polish". Does that mean anything?
- And give me a break, man nudziarzu. It was just a curiosity for me, ill be synonymous, indeed. - Said the red with anger Ancymon.
- Exactly. Curiosity. It is these Wlazło eyes. But let me tell you something that not even thought of their ignorance. Well, at the height of Naples, on the opposite, the Adriatic coast, a mountain village, in the monastery of San Giovanni Rotondo, lived an old, saintly monk. I confess not "Polish", but in the language szczekałeś, like a machine gun. And you called to loiter at Pompeii, Capri and similar standard locations that are available today.
Ancymon really mad.
- No, stop Finally, the old marudo! I would go to him? After pogoniłby me probably worse than some of the local notables. And I'd be even worse I have undertaken.
- I guess you're right. I see that at least now some zmądrzałeś. Okay, Flee. Commute.
School. Sleepy girl, much younger than Ancymona, but probably a whole lot wiser, got off. Urban mini car game, thanks to weak coincidence treating the analysis, gave a positive result. Girl will begin teaching the first lesson.
And the freshly baked licealistce, Fox owes its third consecutive reading the same book by Jaroslaw Marek Rymkiewicz "Polish talks in the summer of 1983." By Lisa custom imprinted self-giving each other Christmas books, led to a gift - a nod to the past my dad. For the first time Fox was reading this book shortly after its release by the underground publishing house "New". A little disappointed with it and not understand pięknoduchostwem, "what exactly is niecenzuralnego." And then look for above all profanity underground passages in published books.
The second time, at the end of the nineties, when he bought himself as a "brick" (CIP), myszkując as a diver in random piles of cheap, unwanted books.
He read without conviction, as an archival item, for the reminder. I am pleased that that the paper, offset printing, printed deadly letters, which his father could not read, transformed into a properly issued, the normal position of literature. At normal levels. Only
reading this gift chosen with love, respect and expertise it has committed to the orderly read a favorite author.
...
Today Lisa is the only morning duties, then appointed a new coach with his riding, Mr. Tadkiem. Way back, it's like downhill skiing from the slope, which climbed at a time when there were no lifts. We look at all those poor motorists skiers drepczących herringbone uphill. And we're going to Krech.
Bo Fox began a new life. New life!
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