BERNARD’S HOURS, The story of a schismatic misanthrope, Leila Samarrai, Part Two, Skin – Walker (excerpt from the novel) including my youtube classical playlist https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=td3vNCCMchg&list=PLloUSh-zjFDze6qB4QIWDHTdtoQJY8PUy&index=24 BERNARD’S HOURS PART ONE https://leilasamarrai.wordpress.com/2015/03/06/bernards-hours-the-story-of-a-schismatic-misanthrope-leila-samarrai/ ‘A smuggler, and yet so knowledgeable of Mozart?’, she giggled. I took one good look at her again… She took one of me as well, giggling, butContinue reading “BERNARD’S HOURS Part Two, Skin – Walker The story of a schismatic misanthrope, Leila Samarrai, Work in progress, inspired by my article “The Dark Mozart” (waiting for translated chapters!)”
Neuhvatljive, živahne kretnje, stopala… kao konji ljuti što beze u galopu pljusak snage, beli smeh u vetru otvoreni brzaci, prostor nastanjen težinama lepet tegova zbraja i potire uspone i padove a duša je u skladu sa zadovoljnim telom Presvučena znojem, kao svilom, podizem težinu visoko prema nebu. čini se da je vežbacka rutina puna rastanakaContinue reading “Fitnes pesma/Boris K. in the gym”
– Sir, you’re scaring the children, step away!
– But they’re not children! – I lifted my camera again to see tiny monsters. I felt someone’s enormous hand on my shoulders. I jerked. It was Daldry.
I feverishly pointed the lens at him and saw, not without relief, that his face was his own. The only one, the only…
– My friend, please realize. These are not your friends.
My host fidgeted and looked at them with unease as they stepped away. A mother took her children staring at me with disgust and horror.
– This… – I did not even know how to say this to him. – These are not humans.
– If not, who are they?
Contemplations from the grave The place of action is a grave deeply dug within the architectonic of Père Lachaise. Whenever the dead start conversing beneath the soil, it turns simultaneously green and blue. Many burial plots around the world look up to the Père Lachaise grave. It is a black hole, exactly as imagined byContinue reading “TILL WORDS DO US PART, The Theatre of the Dead”
In his tiny two-by-two hole in the wall, Boris K. sat with a dignified expression on his face and his legs out in a straddle. He wore two left slippers of diverse colour. As he casually turned to peer in the cracked mirror, he was greatly displeased by the sight of his slicked-back gray hair.Continue reading “Leila Samarrai: Vodka, The Adventures Of Boris K.”
image found here BERNARD”S HOURS The story of a schismatic misanthrope “The basis of hatred is fear” – Friedrich Nietzsche Part I 00.00 I have always hated people. Always or after one woman stabbed my heart with a knife? I have no excuse, because hatred is a gift we receive upon birth and not someContinue reading “BERNARD”S HOURS, The story of a schismatic misanthrope, Leila Samarrai”
THE FEAR By Leila Samarai Healthy urban man, one of the numerous tenants of the New Building, decided to lose a certain number of kilograms, for it was known that in the newer buildings there was only a certain number of kilograms allowed per floor. The calculator was deciding the correlation with height, to preventContinue reading “THE FEAR, by Leila Samarrai”
I always loved to be on the phone. The telephone and the cable wire are like curtains that hide someone’s enormous eyes, a covert that splits the worlds like an old canopy splitting someone’s room. At times the voice from the other side is like song that started suddenly, or perhaps with a pleasant whisperContinue reading “TELEPHONE, Leila Samarrai”
Under control Your blood pressure is normal and stabel. Don’t need to worry about it. Everything is under control. EVERYTHING! – the doctor suddenly jumps onto the patient and grabs his neck – Did you understand me!!!???