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November 24, 2009 by ·

Dimiter Angeulov


“On my way across the Parede City Park, I noticed a woman who had bent down too much, much more than amateur photography requires when shooting a goose. Her temporizing dragged on for so long that I lost patience and said:
“Out of this will come … nothing will come out of it!”
“Nobody has asked for your opinion!” and she measured me from head to heels as if she wanted to melt me down or to bury my body.
“Anyway, first…”
“No first, no second! To hell with you!”
“That’s where I’m coming from. First, nothing will come out in the photo you shot, because you’re facing the sun. Second, you waited long enough to shoot a short movie. Third, no goose is dumb enough to let you deceive it with some seeds. And last, it’s all about showing your body to the passersby anyway. Stand up there like this”, I said and approached.
“Don’t touch me!”
“I haven’t touched you. You can whistle for that!”

She stood up quickly and, instead of my eyes, encountered my naïve and good-natured expression. She opened her mouth to say something, but her hesitation turned into a beautiful smile, if we don’t count a certain note of seduction: something I couldn’t be duped about, since it’s been known since Solomon’s time that women seduce even those who appall them. This is their nature according to great psychologists, too.

“I would like”, I uttered with sincere pretence, “to explain some things to you about when the sun or some glass dazzles us and misleads us in our admiration. There’s a pleasant café across the street…
“With utmost pleasure,” she said and we walked like a couple in love, when one pledges oneself to nothing except to the charm of chance.

What followed could not have been more beautiful or more trivial. I’ll only say that we spent about a dozen days on an island, in a splendid mood and without any plans. And it happened as expected: sooner or later, the gun sight, as well as the lens, must part from the object living or still. How romantic the English are when they say: “still life”! Who stays, who abides there? Nobody.”

Then he blew over the lens the way cowboys blow over the barrel after the last shot, and shoved the camera into the case.

Translated from Bulgarian by Valentin Krustev and Donna Martell

À contraluz

Dimíter Ánguelov

Categories: Frontpage · Prose


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