15/02/2005

You don’t need a clock here. In the morning just before 7.30 the big wooden porch is opened by an employee from the office nextdoor. Time for me to get up, unless I worked late the day before. At 11.30 sharp they go out for lunch, time for me to realise the shops close in half an hour and I need to go out to buy some fresh bread for lunch, unless I want to eat the old bread from yesterday. They return at 12.00 sharp. I make coffee and prepare my own lunch. The office closes at 15.30. Half an hour later the museum closes. And at 16.30 the music “from the other side” starts. Time for a drink. Some tea or a nice glass of wine from our neighbour who sells good wine in bottles with beautiful lables. He’s living just behind us and invites his customers in a room where time stood still. A dim room, not only because of the sparse light but mainly because of the objects in it. Old fashioned chairs, goldrimmed cups, a dark painting with an old Magyar on it . One day when he wasn’t in, his wife, who speaks not a word we understand, explained us she would close the curtains in the back of the house when he would be in. Communicating is easy. Language isn’t.
I read an article today about poetry in sign-language. I never really thought about this but sign-language seems to be just as complex and subtle as any other language. It must be beautiful to see somebody ‘speak’ (what word do you use for that?) a poem in this language. Maybe we should all learn this language. What a relief it would be to move around in a world where people shut their mouths up and use their hands to speak. A silent world. Or at least a little more silent.
Yesterday I encountered a woman. She asked me questions and I couldn’t answer. She looked like a good witch from one of those big red leather bound books, filled with fairytales. A typical eastern european good witch. If her hair hadn’t been that blond and her lips not that pink she might have been beautiful. Did she lie about her age or did I mix up the words she spoke? I took her picture. It’s a lousy picture but she looks nice in it. I’ll bring her a copy, she lives near the Danube. A good place for good witches.

After 16.30 nothing indicates time. It has dissapeared. I can do as I please