hingetõmbeis ja südametes

Ükskord elas mees, kes seisis ühe suurlinna tänaval(Vahet ei ole kas Pariisis, Londonis,Berliinis, New Yorgis või Moskvas).
Ta seisis kerjuste, tänavamuusikute, prostituutide, taksojuhtide ja tänavalaste
keskel.

Ta ei hoidnud käes silti "Olen pime, andke palun raha", ta ei olnud ka sutenöör, kes närviliselt tänavanurgal suitsu tõmbaks, ta ei olnud taksojuht, kes suitsupausiks autost välja on roninud, ta ei olnud tänavalapsi kiusav pedofiil.
Ta ei mänginud akordionit ega saksofoni ega proovinud isegi mitte laulda.

Ta seisis hallis ülikonnas keset rahvahulka, hoidis käsi mantlitaskus.
Ühes käes hoidis ta hommikust ajalehte.
Võib-olla oli ta terve hommikupooliku seda mõnes tänavakohvikus lugenud.

See mees võis olla ametnik lõunapausil ja ta võis olla ka mõne välisriigi diplomaat.
Aga ta ei teinud mitte midagi.
Ta seiras hämmastava rahuga mööduvaid inimesi.
Keegi ei pööranud talle tähelepanu, sest mees vahetas oma asukohta pidevalt.
Ta näis vahel mõnd inimest pilguga saatvat.
Keegi ei jälginud teda.
Ta ise ei jälginud ka mitte kedagi.


See mees luges mööduvate inimeste hingetõmbeid.
Ta kuulas neid läbi tänavamüra ja kirjutas üles väiksesse märkmikusse, mida ta hoidis oma mantlitaskus.

Järsku peatus ta ees keegi võõras ja küsis midagi.
Tänavamüra summutas küsimuse.
Hingetõmbeid kokku arvutav mees noogutas vaikselt.

Mööduv võõras ei küsinud kellaaega ja samuti ei küsinud ta ka lähima ajalehekioski ja parkimisautomaadi asukohta.

See võõras mees palus vaiksemalt kirjutada, sest ta ei saa muidu inimeste südamelööke loendada.

Üks prostituut,kelle kingal oli konts kadunud, hakkas nutma, kuid siis võeti ta auto peale ja keegi ei näinud ta pisaraid enam.

Üks taksojuht sai uue kliendi ja kihutas teise linnaossa.
Pimedale mehele visati münt.
Tänavamuusikut jäi kuulama armunud paarike.

Üks tänavalaps jooksis aga turisti fotoaparaadiga kangialusesse.


Nii südamelööke üles kirjutav mees kui ka hingetõmbeid kollektsioneeriv mees asusid kibekiirelt oma märkmeid täiendama.

Nad ei seganud enda ümber pulbitsevat tänavaelu.
Elu segas neid.


Ja nad pidid selle üles kirjutama.Ühe hingetõmbega ja otse südamest.

VAADATES MAAILMA LÄBI SÕRMEDE
VILISTADES SELLELE

MIS

TULEB

MIS ON OLNUD

JA

MIS JÄÄB OLEMATA









VAADATES MAAILMA NAGU SEDA POLEKS KUNAGI OLNUDKI

I SAID DO NOT LOOK BACK!!!!!

PEEEEEEEEDROOOOOO........POR QUE..
wHAT THE F****?!!!
DO WE ALL GET SENTIMENTAL WHEN TIME GOES BY?
dO WE CRY AND PRAISE OR LOST YOUTH?
WE NEVER GROW UP?
OR WHAT DO U THINK?


...fläshbäkk fläshbäkk fläsbäkk
MIS ON SU MÄSTERPLÄN......DU JU HÄÄV ENI?



ARE WE ALL GOING TO LIVE IN FLASHBACK....IN THE FLASHING LIGHT OF CAMERAS?
ARE WE CONSTANTLY SENDING MESSAGES TO THE FUTURE?
WHY?
TO MAKE THE MEANING OF LOVE MORE CLEAR?
TO EXPRESS YOUR DEEPEST FEELINGS?

I JUST SAID DO NOT LOOK BACK.
GO FORWARD.

WHEN IT ALL IS A CIRCLE...THEN "VOLVER" MEANS TO "TURN IT BACK" "TO CHANGE IT".
(MINNES ÜLE EESTI KEELELE, SIIS IVO LINNA LAULIS:"EI AEG EI PEATU, EI EI".)


BUT
ALMODOVAR DID LOOK BACK.HE PROBABLY DOESN`T LIKE IVO LINNA THAT MUCH.
HIS MUSE PENELOPE CRUZ SHINES IN CANNES AS MORNING SUN.

PEDRO,QUE PASA????


VÕI MÕELDA HOOPIS NII...
KUI ELU ON TANGO, SIIS TANTSIGE....ÄRGE VAADAKE SELJATAHA.
SEAL ON KADEDAD PILGUD.

VOILA!


sIIT TULEB PEDRO ALMODOVARI TANGO ELULE....

Midapekki maütlen!



VOLVER
Carlos Gardel

Tango



Yo adivino el parpadeo
de las luces que a lo lejos
van marcando mi retorno.

Son las mismas que alumbraron
con sus pálidos reflejos
hondas horas de dolor.

Y aunque no quise el regreso
siempre se vuelve
al primer amor.

La vieja calle
donde me cobijo
tuya es su vida
tuyo es su querer.

Bajo el burlón
mirar de las estrellas
que con indiferencia
hoy me ven volver.

Volver
con la frente marchita
las nieves del tiempo
platearon mi sien.

Sentir
que es un soplo la vida
que veinte años no es nada
que febril la mirada
errante en las sombras
te busca y te nombra.

Vivir
con el alma aferrada
a un dulce recuerdo
que lloro otra vez.

Tengo miedo del encuentro
con el pasado que vuelve
a enfrentarse con mi vida.

Tengo miedo de las noches
que pobladas de recuerdos
encadenen mi soñar.

Pero el viajero que huye
tarde o temprano
detiene su andar.

Y aunque el olvido
que todo destruye
haya matado mi vieja ilusión,

guardo escondida
una esperanza humilde
que es toda la fortuna
de mi corazón.

Volver
con la frente marchita
las nieves del tiempo
platearon mi sien.

Sentir
que es un soplo la vida
que veinte años no es nada
que febril la mirada
errante en las sombras
te busca y te nombra.

Vivir
con el alma aferrada
a un dulce recuerdo
que lloro otra vez.


NOW TANGO IN ENGLISH...my dear devils..


I imagine the flickering
of the lights that in the distance
will be marking my return.
They're the same that lit,
with their pale reflections,
deep hours of pain
And even though I didn't want to come back,
you always return to your first love
The tranquil street where the echo said
yours is her life, yours is her love,
under the mocking gaze of the stars
that, with indifference, today see me return .

To return ,
with withered face,
the snows of time
have whitened my temples.
To feel... that life is a puff of wind,
that twenty years is nothing,
that the feverish look,
wandering in the shadow,
looks for you and names you.
To live...
with the soul clutched
to a sweet memory
that I cry once again

I am afraid of the encounter
with the past that returns
to confront my life
I am afraid of the nights
that, filled with memories,
shackle my dreams.
But the traveler that flees
sooner or later stops his walking
And although forgetfulness, which destroys all,
has killed my old dream,
I keep concealed a humble hope
that is my heart's whole fortune.

To live... with the soul clutched
to a sweet memory
that I cry once again

"Aga ma ei ole veel pühak.Ma olen alkohoolik.Ma olen narkomaan.Ma olen gei.Ma olen geenius."

T.Capote


ACCEPT PEOPLE AS THEY ARE AND THEY SAY YOU ARE A SAINT



:)



ACCEPT YOURSELF AS YOU ARE THEY SAY YOU ARE A SINNER




but who cares anyway

MÕNIKORD ON AEGA SAJANDEID
AGA SIIS SAAD ARU
ET SUL ON VAHEL AINULT
ÜKS NÄRUNE SEKUND


ET PÄÄSTA KÕIK ÜLEJÄÄNUD MINUTID
JA SEKUNDID

MAY-BE YOU WILL BE THE NEXT BASQUIAT
MAY-BE I KNOW YOU ALREADY
MAY-BE I SAW U DISCO DANCING OR LEAVING THE PARTY WITH A YELLOW DUCK

MAY-BE U ARE WEIRD
BELIEVE ME
IT IS NOTHING MORE OKAY THAN THAT
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL



NEVER LOOK BACK

THEY CAN`T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING YET

The colours of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shakin' hands, sayin' "How do you do?"
They're really saying "I love you"




Kui elu on ime, siis on ka kõik inimesed imelised.

Louise: She
[Pierrette]
Louise: asked me to keep quiet and gave me 10,000 francs.
Pierrette: Which I regret, you hussy.
Louise: What?
Pierrette: Everyone knows you sleep around.
Louise: You know, since we sleep with the same ones, let me explain the bribe. I overheard you say to Monsieur, "Give me the money or you'll die."
Pierrette: No I said, "I'll die."
Louise: No, "You'll die."
Pierrette: My poor Louise! Your word is no good, you're just a maid.
Louise: Nor is yours. You're just a whore.
Pierrette: Which I prefer.




FRENCH WOMEN FROM A FRENCH MOVIE (F.Ozon "8 femmes")

BEGINNING OF THE END

ONE DAY WAS DIFFERENT FROM THE OTHERS .
IT BEGUN FROM THE NEUROTIC STREETS OF NEW YORK IN THE SEVENTIES.
ANNIE HALL IS A VERY GOOD DRIVER,BUT WOODY ALLEN IS JUST A CHICKEN,THAT IS NEVER BROUGHT TO MENTAL INSTITUTIONS.
BY THE TIME OUR BAND WAS FORMED SUPERMAN WAS NOT YET PRESENT IN TARTU.SCARLETT JOHANSSON HAD SIGNED A CONTRACT FOR L`OREAL AND WOODY ALLEN.
THE AIR IS FILLED WITH THE SOUNDS OF HORROR AND AGONY, PASSION AND LOVE.
KISSING STUDENTS STILL SHARE A ROOM TOGETHER AND HIDE THEIR FACES FROM THE PUBLICS.
NEVER LOOK STRANGERS IN THE EYES.
THEY MAY BECOME TOO CLOSE.

GOD IS CLOSED AT NIGHT.
YOU HAVE TO BE ONE.TO SURVIVE.




Interestingly, Fyodor Dostoevsky and the other giant of 19th Century Russian literature, Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy, never met in person, even though each praised and influenced the other. There was, however, a meeting arranged, but there was a confusion about where the meeting place was and they never rescheduled. Tolstoy reportedly burst into tears when he learnt of Dostoevsky's death. In their time, the two were considered by the Russian critics and public as the greatest novelists produced by their homeland.



Dostoevsky was sent to the St. Petersburg Academy of Military Engineering and since he was not very good at mathematics, a subject he despised, he did not do very well. Instead, he focused on literature.




Motivated by the dual wish to escape his creditors at home and to visit the casinos abroad, Dostoevsky traveled to Western Europe. There, he attempted to rekindle a love affair with Apollinaria (Polina) Suslova, a young university student with whom he had had an affair several years prior, but she refused his marriage proposal. Dostoevsky was heartbroken, but soon met Anna Grigorevna, a twenty-year-old stenographer whom he married in 1867. This period resulted in the writing of his greatest books.



HUGO BOSS da JEVSKI