Lepopisana

V zadnjih nekaj letih, no od 2013 dalje, sem v Benetke na Bienale potovala z Arhousom. Tole zdaj zveni kot potovalna agencija, ampak ni ... pa saj to že veste. Enkrat med tednom sem navila budilko za malo pred četrto sredi noči, ob petih pa smo odrinili megli naproti. Na ta način sem si ogledala tri Bienala in dvakrat doživela slabo vreme, kar samo po sebi ni katastrofa, prijetno pa tudi ni. Zato letos z M-jem oprezava za vsaj pogojno lepim dnem (beri brez dežja). Do sedaj nisva bila posebno uspešna, ko pa je lep dan le prišel, se je zataknilo drugje, večinoma na službeni fronti v obliki obilice dela in / ali po nepotrebnem paničnih šefov. No, Bienale bo do konca novembra. Enkrat že pride najinih pet minut. (Spodnja fotka ni moja, ker je nimam. Čeprav v Benetke vsakokrat pridem po vodi, se niti enkrat nisem spomnila, da bi fotografirala panoramo. Po navadi sem prezaposlena z gledanjem, kar je nekaj popolnoma drugega. Morda se bom letos popravila, če se bom sploh spomnila, seveda.) ...

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles After standing trial for writing a poem the authorities dissaproved of, count Alexander Ilyich Rostov is sentenced to house arrest and is banished from his large hotel suite to a small attic room. He is to spend the rest of his life in the Metropol hotel in Moscow without ever leaving it. He used to be count Alexander Ilych Rostov, recipient of the order of Saint Andrew, member of the Jockey Club, master of the hunt. He became Alexander Rostov. The Count adjusts to living in his small room, h He never complains. After all, a man must master his circumstances if he doesn’t want the circumstances to master him. His world becomes Metropol hotel. Wherever he goes, he counts his steps: from his room to the restaurant, to the barber, to the bar and back to his room. The more he counts the more the world around him shrinks. His everyday paths are the same. After he meets Nina, a nine-year-old girl with whom he discovers parts of the h...

A couple of weeks ago I noticed there was Cloud Atlas on TV and I refused to watch it. I have this strange relationship with films. I can’t explain it but if I read the book I don’t want to watch the film. Not to mention that Cloud Atlas was one hell of a book. At first I thought it was similar to Ghostwritten, but I soon discovered it wasn’t. There are six stories entertwining with each other, or better still, being enveloped in each other. We start reading the first one, than in the middle of it the second one starts, than again in the middle of it the third one starts and so on till we reach the sixth one which we read without interruption. Than all the second parts follow each other untill the book ends with the second part of the first story. This may sound confusing, but … well, I don’t have any better idea how to describe this book. The stories reference each other and each seems to be / is part of the previous one. Zachary listens but doesn’t understand Sonmi’s interview, ...

Vsako leto se zgodi isto. Vedno znova ugotavljam, da je dopust nekaj, kar hkrati je in ni. Na dopustu se odklopim od resničnega sveta. Ko sem drugje, Ljubljane in vsega kar sodi v normalen vsakdan ni. To niti ni tako tragično, če ne bi tudi v nasprotni smeri delovalo nekaj podobnega. Ko se vrnem z dopusta, se mi zdi, da sem si ga izmislila in se v resnici ni zgodil.  Tisa pri Novem Bečeju. Letošnja Tiska akademija akvarela je bila fenomenalna. Atelje s stekleno fronto, ki gleda na Tiso, me je spomnil knjige Lajosa Zilahyja, ki sem jo brala pred davnimi leti in bi jo morda prebrala še enkrat. Da vidim, če je še ista (saj vem, da ni). S kolonije sem se vrnila s polno glavo novih idej, ki jih obračam in prestavljam iz votlega v prazno. S S-jem sva imela zanimivo debato o papirju. Pred časom mi je dal blok Hahnemühle papirja za akvarel, ki ga ne mara. Nisem ga še preizkusila, vendar živim v prepričanju, da mora človek obvladati različne papirje, da ga sprememba v kakovos...