In a camp of children ( their age raging from 2 to 25) with their parents an older guy comes to me and my dad sitting in the terrace.
Can I sit here? he asks. I nod and stay quite.
Shall we listen to some music? What groups do you like?
Oh, Placebo, James Blunt, Norah Jones, Kino…. I answer.
Kino. Yeah, their song’s are nice. Didn’t they come to our country a year or few ago?
I shrug and glance confused at my father, also a fan of the group, knowing that their lead singer’s dead for over twenty years.
Still, I have 83 songs on my Ipod. There will definetly be one you like. he says while starting some random song.
I nod thinking “Well, if it’s so, I have over 370 songs on my phone and that doesn’t mean there will be any you would like”
Vincent van Gogh liked to write letters to his brother Theodor, whoose son Vicent liked to write letters to his brother Theodor.
A few years ago I used to share an ipod without a screen to see the name of the song with my mother. (For the record, her english skills at that time were really really poor.) We listened to quite diferent artists. For example, I had songs of Queen and Abba, she had Frida Kahlo’s and Tiger lillies’s.
One day while riding the bus home I absentmindedly let one of moms songs play on without skipping it like I usually do. After some time the crowd in the bus gets too loud to hear the music, so I turn the volume up and finally notice, that instead of ‘Master Baton, Jimmy’, the band had been singing ‘Masturbating Jimmy’ all along. I skip to the next song, it’s a ballad named “She’s a whore”. You can imagine the rest of the repertoire.
I get home, ask my mother if she knew what she had been listening to and translate the song on the spot afther a negative answer. I thouht the words in Tiger lillies songs were somehow dirty, that my mother was decieved both by the band and the friend who showed her their creations, cus she didn’t know the language. She just shugged and smiled as I voiced my opinion. ‘It’s sometimes really relaxing to not know everything. To listen and not understand, to not even try to do so.’ she said,’ And sometimes it’s just relaxing to listen to some dirty sounding songs.’
What if the princess in ‘The princess on the pea’ wasn’t so super sensitive and all, just her period kicked in that stormy night when she asked for a place to rest at the prince’s castle. The reason she couldn’t sleep at all would be seriuosly painful cramps making her toss around and get those marks on her skin.
It’s one kind of grief when your favorite character dies, a complete other when he commits cannibalistic murder and a third kind when it happens not in Hannibal.