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Dzisiaj niespodziewany telefon od Evy I Eagel i zaproszenie na kolacje do Wan Chai (erotyczna dzielnica miasta). No coz, bez zadnych sensacji, a moze I szkoda… Posiedzielismy w przytulnej restauracyjce z europejskim jedzeniem. Duzo swieczek, muzyka z lat 60tych I atmosfera, ktora pozwala zapomniec o swiecie. Smialismy sie duzo, jedlismy, co chwile wypalalam cos po kantonsku I znowu wszyscy wybuchali smiechem. Dla nich to takie zaskakujace, ze zylam w miejscu w ktorym w zimie moze byc -20C, gdzie sklepy zamykane sa o 18, a ludzie mowia w jezyku, w ktorym jeden czasownik moze miec kilkanascie form.
Miike znowu zaskoczyl, tym razem filmem “Box”. Taka poezja, sen I uczucia. I on jest chyba o nas – zaplatanych w siec zaleznosc, z ktorej uwolnienie sie pociagneloby tylko za soba smierc. Tragizm zycia, z moze po prostu piekno. Kto wie.
Wczytuje sie we fragmenty ‘Szarej strefy’ Rozewicza: kamasutra Hitlera, bramaputra Stalina, palec klintona, wielki wybuch, male wzdecie i “Moja mama fukujama… nie rozumie nic…”
Spedzilam poranek biegajac a potem siedzac przy plazy I sluchajac trzasku wody o skaly. Lubie ten zapach powietrza, odglos morza, pusta plaze i widok wysp gdzies w oddali. Czuje sie spokojna.
Wiem, pisze tak jakos bez wyrazu. Jest pozno, ide spac.
W srodku życia
Po koncu swiata
po smierci
znalazłem się w srodku życia
stwarzałem siebie
budowałem życie
ludzi zwierzęta krajobrazy
to jest stół mówiłem
to jest stół
na stole leży chleb nóż
nóż służy do krajania chleba
chlebem karmia się ludzie
człowieka trzeba kochać
uczyłem się w nocy w dzień
co trzeba kochać
odpowiadałem człowieka
[Rozewicz]
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Today an unexpected phone call from Eva and Eagle and their invitation for a dinner in Wan Chai (red-light district in HK). Oh well, without any sensations, maybe it’s a pity…
We’ve been sitting in a snug restaurant with European food. Lots of candles, music from 60s and nice atmosphere made us forget about the world. Lots of laughing, good food and as usually when I was showing off my Cantonese everyone was bursting into laugh. For them it’s so surprising that I’ve been living in a place where it can be -20C in winter, where shops close at 6pm, and were people speak in a language that has more than ten forms of the same verb.
Miike surprised again, this time with “Box”; lots of poetic shots, dreams and feelings. The whole film is probably about all of us – entangled in a net of concepts and relations; setting free might be brought only by death. Tragedy of life, or maybe just it’s beauty. Who knows.
I’m reading into fragments of Rozewicz’s “Grey Zone”: Hitler’s kamasutra, brahmaputra of Stalin, Clinton’s finger, big explosion, small flatulence and ‘my mama fukuyama… doesn’t understand a thing…’ Indeed.
I spent the morning jogging and sitting on the beach listening to the crash of waves against rocks. I like this smell of air, sound of sea, empty beach and the view on distant islands. I feel calm.
Yes, my writing is blank. It’s late, I’m going to sleep.
In The Middle Of Life
After the end of the world
after my death
I found myself in the middle of life
I created myself
constructed life
people animals landscapes
this is a table I was saying
this is a table
on the table are lying bread a knife
the knife serves to cut the bread
people nourish themselves with bread
one should love man
I was learning by night and day
what one should love
I answered man
this is a window I was saying
this is a window
beyond the window is a garden
in the garden I see an apple tree
the apple tree blossoms
the blossoms fall off
the fruits take form
they ripen my father is picking up an apple
that man who is picking up an apple
is my father
I was sitting on the threshold of the house
that old woman who
is pulling a goat on a rope
is more necessary
and more precious
than the seven wonders of the world
whoever thinks and feels
that she is not necessary
he is guilty of genocide
this is a man
this is a tree this is bread
people nourish themselves in order to live
I was repeating to myself
human life is important
human life has great importance
the value of life
surpasses the value of all the objects
which man has made
man is a great treasure
I was repeating stubbornly
this water I was saying
I was stroking the waves with my hand
and conversing with the river
water I said
good water
this is I
the man talked to the water
talked to the moon
to the flowers to the rain
he talked to the earth
to the birds
to the sky
the sky was silent
the earth was silent
if he heard a voice
which flowed
from the earth from the water from the sky
it was the voice of another man
[Rozewicz]