When one develops a writing hobby, one need not wonder why some people, like inspectors lurking in the shade to check out a bankruptcy for manoeuvre income, seem to be expecting something unexpected or hidden to pop out.
The different global speeds for the different countries can now be noticed to develop one variant in the streets of the city at the pace at which the people are walking in on business days, and are recognizing in passing a similarity or a discrepancy in social breed or fortune status.
The modern trend is to have diversity on the time scale rather than on the position one, which can be seen the other way, or may be studies as shattered time integrated in a consolidated position, and a shattered position integrated in a consolidated time period.
The logistics puzzle of this now time seems to have been split up into all the letters of the alphabet that have been distributed unevenly, and by a classified secret system, into many boxes whose old labels are both reliable and misleading.
One’s survival tasks exact from one the formation of words relevant to one’s needs and environment, though it is up to one to find out which letter is in which box, and what words one has to form for them to be relevant. More or less like looking for the route through the offices of administration, or like the administration trying to find a new working for the location system variant which will not double any other variant but will stick to the main principles that keep all the variants globally level.
In the context of logistics, I now understand why the most inappropriate among the men were chosen to play the rivals in an already decided economic competition, and why the most appropriate among the women were selected to be saved in the cages of the connoisseurs’ protectionism.
What I can now support my writing hobby with is the following:
‘I entered, a brave step from the heat in the street into the coolness of the shop, and asked the price of a watch that appealed to me from the shop window. It turned out that the watch cost one thousand three hundred, enough to keep me believing in my good taste. The fact that it was a man’s watch that appealed to me was not bothering me because I was sure that only a man of taste would like me, but also that the man of taste would never buy himself such a watch. A matter of acquiring and keeping a belonging.’
In the context of writing, I guess I have done much to spoil my poetic image.
But maybe there is someone who would like to go on a co-venture project with me, taken for granted that it is not too early for an author born to spend sixty years in the former socialist block to be welcome worldwide.
V.P.Toucheva 14.07.2008 Sofia, Bulgaria
