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Kirjad Inglile (Letters to Angel) (2011)
If One is not, nothing is. Plato
I'm starting to calm down. I can write and think freely again Think and pass my thoughts on to you - so you can consider them further. That visit to Dad's home was so short. The confusion there smelt of corpses. And worse than in the desert Damp climate, is that why? I must go back where I came from, to the mountains It's simpler there. You go and fight with the others. The relationships are clear, though no one gets their deeper meaning. Maybe that's the natural human state - fighting Reverence for life is forgotten, pointless or misinterpreted. I've seen so many dead and murdered people. And I've killed so much, that my soul is hardened. At Dad's funeral I felt something else. Dad's death was something else; it changes everything. Death changes into what it is. The hardness disappears and in its place there's sorrow, maybe mourning. And memory opens up to what is long gone, lost behind the wall of oblivion. LETTERS TO ANGEL The city has always been alien to me. Linda wanted to get out of the swamp, to an apartment in town. We'd just found a suitable one and moved in when I was sent to Afghanistan. A draft. I got the call and the next morning I was already on the flight. I had no clue where I was going or why I was the one being uprooted from my life. Now I'm back and the time that's passed is like an endless dream God or Allah knows how long it was... Fuck, they won't let you sleep! Now, that Danish guy showed them how to wank off. A cello stuffed between your knees, the bow moving back and forward like a dick. Women are sure to get an orgasm. They do! And they want it. You believe me? I'm gonna finish her! I'll kill her! During an orgasm. I will strangle her from behind at the end of the orgasm. I will strangle her. I will strangle my own wife. Not every man kills his wife while she's coming. I will. I will blow this whole damn town sky high. The whole fuckin' town. Pieces will rain down from the sky. Listen Muslim, I had an idea how to save this town You'll take care of my wife. Why get my own hands dirty if I already got a fundamentalist. You rip the whore's throat out or put a bullet in her neck- your choice. I'll pay, whatever it costs. Think. You'll save the whole town. Just one atheist - and the town is saved No bombs... silence... Simple. I'll pay half now, you'll get the other half later. Salaam aleikum! Hello, I'm Fee, with two E's. - Hello. Santa thought someone should come meet you, so she sent me. She got married on the weekend... to a Dane. A Danish cellist. Imagine - Senta's husband is a cellist. He gives master classes here, or whatever they're called. Santa brought him back from Denmark. Now theyre buying land here. They say there isn't much land left there You been to Denmark? - No. -You haven't? Santa says you're a globetrotter. And you haven't been to Denmark. Training. It's a swamp, a marsh, a mire - no sense in buying it. Nein! Santa! Please! Nein! Funeral on Wednesday. Aline. Dear Angel, you may argue with me and say that only I talk to you while you listen quietly, if even that. But no, don't argue, this is a dialogue and we will keep talking until one day we meet face to face. I hear your voice and words clearly, and I answer you. If I can. And if you want my words to remain a monologue, then I tell you: everything's a monologue, everything we hear, think or say, even a dialogue. Physically I've only heard you once On the telephone. I say that time and again, because that was the start of everything in our discussions. Your voice, as I heard it on the telephone then was my own voice. I recognised it right away. For a moment I was back with my own dead Mum and I heard my own crying... And I thought that you and I have the same cry and that's the basis of everything. "The pain of the world", if you can describe crying that way. I guess you no longer think any woman will ever kiss you Or is it self-defense? In that case you're behind the times; nowadays there are more efficient defense mechanisms, than chewing on an ink pen... Is lipstick any better? - Lipstick isn't poisonous. And a good color doesn't stop you from kissing. Besides, I don't use lipstick every day. Any other questions? - Yes. -Well, ask. Is there an oculist practicing in this town? - Why does that interest you? You asked if I had any questions. Do you know if we still have an eyeglass shop? If we do, then it's over where the pharmacy used to be It's on the main street, next to the lingerie shop. Milan. Have you been to Milan? - No. Too bad. -What do you mean? - That you haven't been to Milan When did you last have your eyes checked? - Twenty years ago. They were okay then? - Yes. 21- You've never had glasses? - I have. How strong? - I don't know. American ones. I found them in the mountains, with a NASA label. Belonged to a dead sniper. You can see well with them? - That's just it - I can't. You don't have a light phobia, do you? The sun doesn't make you dizzy? - Sometimes... Look with both eyes. Which is brighter- red or green? Red - no, green... - No. - Red... How many hours have you slept? - Last night I was on a train. Get a good night's sleep and come back tomorrow. Yes? - Santa from the hostel. You wrote the book, Songs of a Battlefield Surveyor Are you a surveyor? What's this about? - I'm in the archives and I need you urgently. The archive's closing down. It's moving to another town. Edda will copy some papers I need. But we don't know what papers we need to buy land Can you hear me? - Yes. We need help. You hear? - Yes, I can hear. Do you know where the archive is? Behind the pool? - No. You know the sock factory? In the courtyard of the old sock factory. If you're standing by the factory, the pool is in front of you, and the archive is opposite you. The same building as the training center. Third floor. Use the lift. Ask for Edda. They'll know. Edda... -Yes, two D's, not one, as in Buddha. But with an E, not a B, and two D's. Yes, but who am I supposed to. I'm here to see Edda. - Pardon me? - I'm here for Edda, at the archives. What's in your bag? - A notebook. Please open the bag put it on the table. What's in here? - Money. Why don't you keep your money in a bank? How much do you have here? - I don't know, it's not my money. Do you have any ID? - I do. Take off your shoes. - What do you mean? Take off your shoes, put them next to your bag and walk through that gate. Go through the gate. Come back. Take off your jacket. And your vest Raise your hands. Turn around. What do you have here? - Shrapnel. Shrapnel? - From a mine. You have a doctor's certificate? - No. Get one, or you might not be allowed to ?y, if you want to travel somewhere. If I have to, I'll go by train. - Suit yourself. I like flying. I've flown through half the world, as a stewardess. Until a Ryanair pilot got me pregnant and that was that. By the way, he was English, not Irish. I bet you thought he was Irish. - No. Really? You're lying. You know why English men are better than, say, Americans or Arabs? - No. Three things. - Three? First they can appreciate whisky. Second, they change their socks twice a day, and third... If you want to kiss me now... Kirotaja. It's really you. I thought Santa had gone mad Sit down. I'll get the folders right away. Edda hasn't been fucked for ages. - How do you mean, for ages? Literally. Six years for sure, maybe seven. - Seven isn't ages. It's not my fault it's so dusty. It's a swampy marshland! Why does she want to buy it? Not just marshland. There are bits of seashore too. Some of them still not sold. One is a madhouse, a former hospital. So where do the patients go when the hospital's sold? - The loonies? - Yeah, them. I don't know what Lars' plans are. Maybe it'll be an international nudist camp Ask Edda, she goes there to sunbathe naked. - This should be it. I'll leave you two alone now. Edda, behave yourself. Hands out of the window! Hands out the window! Freeze! Freeze! Out of the car! Bomb! Bomb! We have an anti-terrorist training center here. Sometimes they climb up and stare in at the windows. Honestly, I don't believe in this marriage. It's not like Santa. She can't stand marriage. Not even to Lars. The honeymoon, of course, the romance and the sex. But not being married. You know, I think this misunderstanding will soon be over and the Dane... - A dead soul. Yes, perfect. You're a psychic... Oh, Hilda, let me introduce the psychic. - Give me a cigarette. What are you drinking? Guess. - Egg liqueur? - You guessed it. Why aren't you drinking anything? - Mr. Psychic does not drink. You got liver cancer, or what? Did I scare you? This is Hilda. She's a doctor. You must forgive her indiscretion Nice to meet you. - Hilde's a psychiatrist. Double? - Right. And a Coke. Kirotaja, I have to pee. You got me drunk. Take me somewhere, then! - I'll take you home. So you know where I live? - No, but you do. I'm lost. - At least you know the address. Whose? -Your own. - And now you want me to tell you? I'm still deciding if I'll tell you. - I'll get a taxi. No, I'm not going anywhere in a taxi. It'll make me throw up. Who'll pay for that? I want to go swimming. Frog or butterfly - which are you better at? Frog or butterfly? I'm better at the frog. Top floor, if I remember it right. Matches - do you have them? Oh, damn! Come inside, quick, before they shit all over you! Come on! You can lie down here. It's your book. You can have it. "Songs of a Battlefield Surveyor" Author missing From Linda to Edda So you knew Linda. - Yeah. So no one knows where they went - Doubt it... After your funeral the book was banned I don't know where they hid them all. One or two copies circulated - they were read to pieces Nobody knew anything about Islam... That's all I'm saying. Let's go back to the clock tower. Let's go back! Go back. Edda! Let go of the gun! Let go... Put the gun down! Shoot me. I don't want to. I don't agree. I don't want to. Let go I knew you'd come back But Linda didn't believe it. And they dug up the grave. Your own father. Opened up the coffin And it was empty, just a little box inside. With a letter in Russian, saying that opening coffins is illegal. That it's treason, a crime. But Linda didn't believe it. I knew. But she was going crazy waiting. How long can you stand it? Shit. At least she got out of here - away. Anywhere... Sniper glasses. Dear Angel, Allah alone knows how a Russian army soldier became a fighter for Islam I ask myself what pushed me over the critical point, because no one else has explained it to me. Certainly Safia, a five-year-old Afghan girl, played her part. At nightfall we stopped a truck and ordered the people to get into a ditch with their bags There were boxes of ammunition and guns hidden in the truck. Then this kid took off, jumped out of the ditch and ran down the hill. My job was to put a bullet in anyone who escaped. I'd done it before. They trusted me - a sure shot with a cool nerve. I don't know why, but this time I ran after her, to grab her and bring her back. When I caught up with her, the bullets started to fly. The girl stumbled and fell. I only had time to shout, you're mad, it's a girl and then there was a blast. I only remember a burning light through my eyeballs. It stuck in my throat. I fell on top of the girl, blinded. I don't know how long that blindness lasted. The girl struggled away and fled. All around, everything was burning. The charred remains of people everywhere. I got to my knees, felt blood running from my ears, and I wet my pants. Freddy, it's time for your session! Psychiatrist Hildegard Wt. is expecting you for hypnosis! Freddy! Freddy! Help, damn it! Help! Lift! Pull! Freddy! Freddy! Freddy! How long was he under water? - I don't know. I don't think that will help now. We could try a heart injection... but then you have to go get the syringe... probably not worth the trouble. So that's it. So much for the nudist travelling theater. Do you know how Hamlet's monologue begins in Esperanto? - No. Cu esti a? jen estljen demando. Sounds nice? - I guess. Guess why the women smear themselves with clay on stage? - I don't know. So they don't give the actors an erection. Imagine Hamlet... it wouldn't be theater any more, would it? - Yeah. Are you coming up? - Do I have to? You don't have to, but you can wash yourself. Edda's condition is stable. She didn't lose her ear. But this isn't the first time. She has been here many times. She read so much she went crazy. She drinks and seeks adventures. I have a hypnosis room here. A couple times a week I'm on duty and I take on cases. You want to try? I have a free session now. Sit there. Relax. Tell me, what's troubling you? I'm searching for my daughter and wife. Or, rather I think about where to find any trace of them. I was gone a long time. I haven't actually seen my daughter. I've just heard her voice - on the telephone But that's gone too. I want to hear it again When did you hear that voice? - On the telephone? - That's what you said. It was in the mountains, during training. The last conversation with my wife - in the background I heard a child's voice... Have you had hypnosis before? - Once. It didn't work. Did you fall asleep? - No. - Sign of a weak character. Can't concentrate, gets scared just before falling asleep starts working against it. Take your clothes off and have a soak in the shower. There are towels there. You can dry yourself with those. Don't be afraid, it's pure urine, nothing more. No need to be ashamed, just relax. How do you like it? Just the pure smell of a vagina, or a whiff of urine as well? Okay, I'll dry it just a little. Dry yourself off and come up. Put these gloves on, and we'll get started. Do you watch porn films? My ex used to watch only Zarah Leander. Then switched to porn. Some sick urge. He really liked Leander's, Die Rosen con Novgorod' You know that song? You've been circumcised, very professionally too. Where was it done? - In the mountains. Lovely, and it stands up nicely. Let's hope for the best. All set. Look and sniff, but don't use your mouth or tongue. You can use your fingers. But just look and sniff first Can you see well? - Yes. Sniff- can you smell it? - Yes. Now touch it- you see the end of the ureter? Yes, there, the clitoris. Yes, yes, yes. Now put your fingers into me - deeper, deeper, three fingers. Even deeper. Now get up and push your penis into my vagina. Yes, deeper, deeper, faster, faster. Now push your penis in as deep as you can and don't move. Now move just a little Come out! I want it from behind, quick! Yes! Am I speaking to Jeremia Juunas Kirotaja? - Yes. I am Lovely Laabus; you left a letter under my door. Can you hear me? -Yes, I can. If it's about your former wife, I'm afraid I won't have time for this in the near future. Call Fee, my assistant. Fee, with two E's. You know the Zenda Hostel? -Yes. Ask for her there, Fee works at the Zenda - Sorry, but I... Well, did you remember? Something, yes. I asked the hearse to wait, they'll drive you, they're going into town anyway. How much do I owe you? Don't play macho with me - do you think I'm a prostitute or something? But these socks... Look... the socks are for the bruises. Nobody's ever nibbled on me like that. Hello! Were we waiting for you? - I suppose so... - From hypnosis? -Yes. - Get in. Where do you want to go? - Doesn't matter where, I'll go wherever you do Our stop is the mortuary. You'll want to get out before that Shut the door. Yes. Salam Aleikum! How are you, friend? Muhammad? Can you hear me? Hello? I don't speak Arabic. Are you in Afghanistan? I'm in Pakistan. Can you hear? I have an important message for you. I don't speak Arabic. I speak American Hello! Can you hear me! I have an important message. "Wrong... Wrong call... Wrong call!" What is it? - It's Santa. Can you open the door! Thanks. - Can I help you? - You've been to war? - So what? - In Afghanistan. Hilda said you were a sniper. - Who? Hilda. You had a session with her today. She said you have a Russian tattoo under your arm I was an ordinary soldier. So you had a gun, too? - Everyone did. So you know how to shoot. - Everyone did. At people. Will you teach me, if I have a gun? - What do you have a gun for? A wedding present from Lars. - If Lars gave it to you, let Lars teach you. I want to do it right now. I want you to teach me today. I'll think about it. - Don't over think it. - I'll try. Dear Angel, I'm writing to you about the night when Safia escaped and saved me too. Dear Angel, I'm writing to you about the night when Safia escaped and saved me too. If I hadn't run after her, I'd have been blown to pieces I was starting to recover from the blow, my ears were ringing, my mouth was dry. The girl had vanished. I had no idea which way she'd gone. I went forward, sometimes running. The night was clear and cold. After a while I saw a glow in the darkness, I went towards it I was back at the car. Only corpses, not a single living soul left. Then I saw the girl again; she had also come back. She stood by the ditch, looking at the dead bodies. I don't know if she was faster or just knew how to make herself invisible in the dark I don't know if she was faster or just knew how to make herself invisible in the dark at any rate, she vanished from sight. I stared at the sky and set off southwest I had to get out of here, before the helicopter came looking for me. What would I have said! That I felt sorry for a child? They would have beaten me to death or crippled me... It was better to die in the desert or at the hands of a Muslim. Maybe the dark night was the only condition in which I could live. In the morning I saw her again, and again she vanished. I moved forward carelessly. I saw her moving on the horizon, as if she were following me. We got to a mountain village. The Muslims came out and locked me up in a hole with nothing to drink They tore my shirt off, studied my tattoo, said they'd slit my throat Then I found out the girl's name was Safia and she wanted to see me face to face. The killing was postponed to the next day. After meeting Safia, I became a Muslim. I let them perform all the proper rites on me. Safia stayed with me. It was Allah's will. I let them perform all the proper rites on me. Safia stayed with me. It was Allah's will. I had to replace her father and mother and brothers My people had killed her family. Can I talk to you for a moment? I wanted to ask about a ?at where someone lives. She said you're her assistant or secretary. She called me this morning; maybe you can help me? Laabus Lovely. - That was it! Old house, Flat 5. Laabus, yes, the director of, Schizophrenia Lovely is a world famous artist. She directs performances. The last one was, Death of the Blenny' I live with her temporarily... that is, as long as Laabus lets me stay. That used to be my wife's flat. I want to get in there. I just want to look Maybe she left something behind. When do you want to go? - Well, as soon as possible. Okay - wait, I'm almost ready. The self-fertilizing blenny is the only creature that would survive the Flood. When Woman learns to breathe under water, Man will become just a sperm bank. When Woman learns to breathe under water, Man will become just a sperm bank. The sex act will lose all significance. Mere copulation, that's it. - Interesting. Once in a while we air this room out too, but the things should be like your wife left them Once in a while we air this room out too, but the things should be like your wife left them I have to hurry. Laabus is shooting in the pool. I should be there already. I need to talk to this Laabus, face to face. I wouldn't recommend it today. Actually, who cares. She's going to kick me out soon anyway. Theres just somethings I won't do. She proposed to me... - Laabus? Proposed? She did, yes. Promise you won't tell anyone. We're ready! Angel! Action! Who let you in here? The pool is closed! - I am Kirotaja, Juunas Jeremia. I don't care who you are .You're interrupting our work Understand? Get him out of here! I don't care who you are .You're interrupting our work Understand? Get him out of here! Are you dizzy? - No. Next take. Get ready! You forgot your glasses. Can I call you some time? - What for? - I don't know... just because Angel... Fuck! We're waiting for you! You hear me? Action! Fuck! Merrily! Elvis has gone completely crazy. - Stop it! Lars! Who's gone crazy? - Elvis. Said he'll kill Lars. Your husband? I'd like to see that! - I have to get home somehow. Kirotaja will drive you. - That Arab? Hasn't he been drinking? Him? He drinks only water and he's celibate. Completely harmless... It helps me calm down. You had to drive to town for me - leave the party. The scandal came as no surprise. Everybody says don't take it seriously. Just a sick person's ramblings. You won't believe me when I say he says he'll strangle me. In my sleep. He suspects that I get orgasms in my sleep. I'm afraid to fall asleep. Get a bodyguard. - A bodyguard for a cellist? Pay him in sonatas. Some people like music. Brahms, for example. - You like Brahms? Not as much as I used to. One violin concerto. The fourth section. Allegro manondanto. But that isn't Brahms This? You guessed it. Elvis! Elvis has started composing. He's a pianist Gifted... he was. Now he's composing, no one will perform them. Composed in a delirium. I told him to write when he's sober, but he refuses. He's stubborn. He's mad, he fills himself up with any shit he can get and then writes... What can I offer you to drink? - Water. He had a piano concerto where the piano is swan in half. Naturally it was never performed. Now it's gone. I think he destroyed it. Not the first time. On top of everything, he's a pharmaceutical chemist Look at the house we live in. Sit down somewhere. Here's a new piece for a cello. 'Babylon' Let's have a premiere. Wait here. I'll be right back. You can take some with you, if you're interested. I don't watch them. I'll take one. Very beautiful. The Ten Commandments. In cuneiform. Elvis paid a fortune for me to be the muse of his dreams Thou shalt have no other gods beside me. First Commandment Take my glass. Yes. - Where are you, at the hostel? No, I can't talk now. - Come back. Back where? - Back here! I'm totally wet and filthy... I can't talk, I'm at a concert. - What concert? I'm freezing! Get going! It's so bloody slippery here make sure you don't run me over! Please give me my glass... The concert is over. Now go... Please go! I brought the money back and I'm borrowing a film from you... Where's Lars? What happened? - How would I know? How would I know? Get going - drive - Drive! Bastard! Son of a bitch! Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! Angel. Touch of Love Is that Kirotaja? Hello? It's Fee. - I'm listening. Your father's funeral is tomorrow, I didn't know. My condolences... - Thanks. Are you going there alone? -Yes. On the river? -Yes. By boat? -Yes. Take me with you. -What for? If you're going alone by boat anyway, I thought... We have a performance there tomorrow. Where? - In the marsh, the same place. Or do you want to go alone? Maybe. I don't know. - I promise I won't bother you. Please. I don't know. If it's so important to you... - So I can come. What time are you leaving? - Early... Good. Hello? - Yes. -Thanks. - Don't mention it. Safia! Safia. Turn the light off. Tell me if you want to go to sleep I'll leave. I'm selling the hostel. This town gets on my nerves. And this marriage. Even while we were getting married I was thinking about divorce. It makes me sick. Are you asleep? Angel. You gave your daughter a beautiful name. Dear Angel. Maybe you'll ask why I haven't written about Safia before For 20 years I've been keeping the secret of my Afghan foster-daughter. I'm not trying to justify it That's how it's been. Safia didn't know about you either, just your name. That there's an Angel somewhere and I write to her. She never asked who Angel is, and I didn't explain either. Sometimes she laughed when she saw my mouth inky mouth, sometimes she became thoughtful. She was somewhere else in her thoughts And I didn't ask about it. It felt good being together. I wasn't a proper father and she wasn't a proper daughter, but that wasn't important. What was important was something else. In a sense, we owed each other our lives. But that wasn't the explanation for our affection I don't know how much Safia remembered her father and mother and two brothers. Time and again I caught myself thinking that perhaps a five-year-old child forgets, that the subconscious erases some images, voices, smells. Sometimes I even believed that. But it's not true. There are things that can't be erased, it isn't possible. It was hard for her to look deep, inside, and hard for me too, as an onlooker. It didn't happen every day, but there were days when it lasted a longtime, and I don't know how deeply she was going into herself. She wandered in the mountains more and more. She'd be gone a whole week and come back, singing to herself. She'd make up new songs. They were sincere, lovely creations, soothing and endless, in Persian, like prayers. Then one day she was gone. She left a short letter, that she would call and explain. My heart feared the worst. I asked the other soldiers and didn't get a clear answer. I waited a whole year, then decided to go back home I sent a letter saying the unknown soldier was alive and coming home. In the reply they said my Dad had just died He died Thursday evening. My letter arrived with the Friday mail. Now that Safia is gone, I think about her promise to call me. Maybe she tried to call that morning when I sat in the hearse at the madhouse. Some Arab called me from Pakistan. Another soldier. I had to lie:, "wrong call". Maybe Safia wanted to say something to me, but it remained unsaid. That is the whole story of Safia Siddigi Assifi, the suicide bomber, my lost foster-child. Fee, Fee, we're waiting for you! Fee! Give me your hand. Let's go] This is the only one. Forward, move the coffin forward Lift the coffin. You are at my father's funeral - Fuck! Help me, this schizo is climbing on the set. Is someone coming or not? If you have nowhere to go, you can stay with us, we've got space. Alfred is away until Christmas. Where was he sent? I think he's in Helmand. I don't know. Anyway the letters come from Pakistan At the mission, then. - Yeah. Our missionary... Well, let me see. Do they hurt? Not too bad. You don't want any? In memory of the old man. You won't say anything at all? What's there to say? Nothing. We need to talk. - I found this in my room. Same place where you hid it. There's only one bullet in it. Who are you saving it for? Yourself. Not a bad idea. The Dane is dead, floating somewhere in the swamp with a bullet in him. That bastard raped me. You know, he used me, brutally, dragged me in the mud and... Bloody pervert! And you put a bulletin the pervert's head - Got what he wanted. And then you hid the pistol in my trunk, so I would get blamed. - Idiot! Maybe you'll need the bullet for yourself? Go to Milan, find your wife... everybody knows how she's earning a living there. And your made-up daughter - what was her name again? - Leave my daughter alone! Angel, that was it. Angels are in heaven. Your Angel is in heaven too. You just don't get it. You're lying! I heard her voice! - Heard her voice? I did. I heard crying. - You heard an angel crying. Attention! Eyes to the front! Yes? - Is that Jeremia Juunas Kirotaja? - Yes. You attended a session of mine, remember, in psycho neurology. You had a memory problem, some child's voice or crying that you couldn't quite recollect. After the session I took a sperm sample from you I must have forgotten to tell you. I got the results back from the lab. Your sperm has quite normal characteristics, you should be a donor. You should have a photo taken - naturally it's all anonymous. You get a code and your sperm can be stored in our bank. Can you hear me? -Yes. What day is good? Bring a photo with you. Come tomorrow morning. I'm on night duty anyway. Or come in the evening. Shall I wait for you then? - Yes. Do you know what, sperm donor' is in Esperanto? - No. Spermodonanto - beautiful, isn't it? - Yes. Spermodonanto, don't you go disappearing now. - Yes. Colonel! Company lined up for the end of training. Eighty soldiers present. Second Lieutenant Felt reporting. Greetings, company! Greetings, Colonel! You're writing. Is her name Angel? - I don't know. And there's no one to ask. I asked Laabus. She said Angel is your sick fantasy, that you're a sick person. That your wife is afraid of you, because you've gone over to the Arab side and all Arabs are terrorists and who knows what evil plan you have for your wife. Would you ever write to me too? - It is as it is with this. In other words, you'll never write to me I don't know. They broke in the church. Dear Angel, Sometimes, and especially now, when I'm going to the mountains again, I feel that I'm dreaming it all or I'm raving like the dying, or I am dead. Because I should be dead. I was declared dead once. I don't know if anyone has the right to come back- to a place where they're not expected. Probably not. You're a stranger, and wrong, and that's how it stays. So I'm writing a dead man's letters. One day they will reach you even if I don't. How they get there I don't know, but they will. I hear your crying again and again like that time on the telephone. And I think it's weird how somethings stay with you, and haunt you more and more however much time passes, they're corrosive, pushing deeper and deeper into you. I don't know where the end is, where it will all lead. Attached to one voice... as if spellbound by it... LETTERS TO ANGEL To Simona |
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