Love
Story
Lazar entered a big, half-empty bus. Two
men were talking aloud about football game. One elderly
woman was clutching a bag in her lap. A many-coloured scarf
and a garlic garland were protruding from her bag. At the
end of the bus, a boy was smoking stealthily. The rain was
falling. Lazar felt a strange aching in his stomach. Hunger?
Automobile
Lazar bought an automobile. Beautiful, powerful,
red car with a radio cassette player in it. Before, when
he was going to work by bus, he used to watch beautiful
girls holding to the rods and whose flash was trembling
beneath their shirts on every curve. Now, every morning
- semaphores and bobbies. Sometimes he catches himself looking
passionately at the crowded, stinking, and sweaty bus, full
of beautiful girls.
The
Poet
The Poet, Lazar's friend, spent most of
his life drunk. One day, completely sober, he went out of
his room at the attic (all poets live in cold rooms at the
attic) and at the street crossing he was ran over by some
drunk driver in the Bugatti, who then ran away from the
place of accident. At the end the Poet was killed by alcohol,
as everybody kept telling him.
Therapy
Lazar has a friend Mohammad. Mohammad has
a hobby. He collects hotel Bibles. There are people who
collect hotel ashtrays, those little soaps which can be
used two or three times, cups, night lamps... Mohammad collects
hotel Bibles. Whenever Lazar feels blue, he goes to visit
Mohammad, takes one of his Bibles, goes to the bathroom
and, sitting fully dressed at the end of the tub, he leafs
through the Bible which is written in some strange language.
After that he feels better.
Career
And then, I was hired as a semaphore.
Exposition
On Lazar's wall, above his writing desk,
one flamboyant, sezession picture of Madonna with small,
plump Jesus is nailed. Both of them are wrapped with stylized
flowers. The picture is printed on a yellow, stiff cardboard
paper.
Previous tenant hanged it - a man who lived in that room
before Lazar - and who also put in a corner one flat bicycle
tire. Lazar did not throw away a tire. He hanged it on a
wall, next to Maria and Jesus. Now, before he goes to sleep,
he watches his small exposition: Maria, Jesus and a bicycle
tire. Then he turns off the light, and if he did not dine
spicy food, he falls asleep instantly.
This
is your life
His hands usually don't shake. One can't
notice anything. Except in the morning, when he brings the
first glass near his lips.
Friendly talk
- I don't have to hate you, to hit you -
the Boxer said.
Lazar was trembling. In a second, it hit him that he doesn't
even know how he manages to stand still, since his legs
are shaking so much. He asked himself does anybody see his
fear - no, vanity made him to pretend that he's not afraid.
And then the Boxer hit him.
Pigeons
No. 1.
Lazar was smoking on a terrace. On the opposite
balcony a gray pigeon was walking. Lazar was watching the
bird, thinking:
- I envy this pigeon.
He put out his cigarette and entered the room.
Pigeons
No. 2.
Two gray pigeons with red feet are walking
on a roof. Lazar is sitting on a terrace, watching the opposite
roof, and he sees those two pigeons. Pigeons are cooing.
Lazar is pretending not to see them. He is taking out his
cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, slowly, and clutches
a lighter in his hand. Suddenly, he brandishes a lighter
and throws it at pigeons. They fly away, and Lazar's lighter
smashes against a concrete roof of the next building. Lazar
rises slowly, enters the room and pulls the curtains.
Pigeons
No. 3.
Lazar
was sitting on as terrace watching a flock of pigeons on
the next roof. He only watched them for some time and then,
he got up and started to jump and scream, to wave his arms
and legs. Pigeons flew away, and from an apartment he heard
his mother's voice:
- What is it? Pigeons again? Leave them alone! Do you hear
me?
Lazar
is walking
Lazar's
dog was pulling his leash today much harder then previous
days. He pulled the leash like crazy.
The
Lift
Lazar
was sitting in a restaurant waiting for a girlfriend. At
the table next to him, a man dressed in liftboy uniform
was sitting, drinking his coffee. Lazar was mused watching
the rim of his hat. The morning was quiet and sunny.
A man in liftboy uniform turned to Lazar very slowly and
quietly, almost in whisper, told him:
- You know, for these past fifteen years as I work as a
liftboy, nobody told me ground floor, just - that simply
- down. Interesting, isn't it?
Then, Lazar's girlfriend walked into the restaurant.
A
Smile
Lazar
was reading a book, holding loosely to the rod. Trolley
stopped suddenly. Lazar lost his balance and fell on a floor.
A fat woman looked at him gently from her seat, and with
a smile, she whispered to him:
- You deserved it.
Dino's
Glouchester
Rd, London. Middle of March, rain is falling. Two men are
walking down the street, slowly. First man is bending down:
- Look, I've found a pound!
They are looking at a small, round coin: pleidiol wyf
i'm gwlad. First man looks another man in the eyes
(or something like that - in that direction - he can not
focus his gaze).
- We'll drink coffee in this Italian restaurant.
The other man smiles, takes off his glasses, pulls a dirty
handkerchief from his pocket and rubs his glasses with it.
Two men enter Italian restaurant, drink coffee with brown
sugar. One coffee is fifty pennies. They come out from the
restaurant.
First man has a short coat and a scarf, the other has a
rain coat on him. Neither of them has hat. They are walking
slowly in the rain.
Birds
don't sing at night
Around
midnight, rain stopped. Lazar was lying in his bed, smoking
in the dark. Suddenly, from a tree under his window he heard
birds singing. Pleased, with a smile on his face, Lazar
was listening to the birds for fifteen minutes. That beautiful
song occupied him so much that he let three cigarettes to
burn in an ashtray - he was lighting one cigarette to another.
After some time, the chirping of birds was becoming much
louder then it was normal. Lazar turned on a lamp next to
his bed. From a vent on a radiator with a twitter and chirp,
hot, dirty water was dripping right on a parquet which started
to swell.
- Where am I supposed to find a handy man at this hour?
- Lazar inhaled deeply, got up and went into the kitchen
to take big pot for dipping water.
Lazar
in the morning
(Seasons No. 1.)
Today,
the sun was shining brightly. Lazar was passing the Ministry
building. From its roof, a big, pointy, half-melted ice,
cut loose and fell on Lazar's shoulder. The blow was hard
and his shoulder started to ache. Cleaning his coat with
a glove Lazar thought:
- It looks like the spring finally came. I should grease
my bike and get it ready.
Lazar
in the morning
(Seasons No. 2.)
He
hardly waited for a trolley door to open. He ran out, pushing
people and stepping on their toes, came to a tree, leant
with one hand on it and threw out his breakfast: tea, corn
flakes with milk, toast with butter and jelly. From a pocket
of his jacket he pulled a handkerchief, whipped his mouth
with it, packed the handkerchief and put it back in his
pocket. He looked at a sky and thought:
- It is going to a fine day.
Calamus
Fortior Gladio
Lazar
and the Friend went out of jewelry store. Lazar showed his
Friend his new tie pin. Calamus fortior gladio
- was written on a pin.
- Latin? What does it mean? - his friend asked.
- The pen is mightier than the sword.
- Don't just believe in it!
- Are you kidding? - Lazar said, looking at a beautiful
woman who was walking down the street. He waved his head,
and said more to himself: Yes. Yes.
In
the family circle
He
was laying on a bad. All his family was around him. He opened
his eyes and looked at their figures, positioned all around
the room. Just like at the old flaman painting: all in sfumato,
golden brown, with a sun coming through the blinds. Sun
in stripes. Their looks: wife's frightened, son's cold,
almost spiteful, daughter's empty. He shut his eyes and
opened them again - to sharpen his gaze - then he raised
himself up on his elbows and said:
- I will come back! - and died.
Emotions
Whenever
he would hear a hymn, something would stuck in his throat.
Any hymn, hymn of any country. War and revolutional, choir
songs, mass songs - they would even make him cry sometimes.
A
day which name was Thursday
She
put a book on a floor, near an armchair, coughed and said:
- I think it is clear that you can not count on our hospitality
after this.
- I paid until the end of the month.
- Your money will be returned to you.
- But I don't want my money back!
- All right, then you won't get it back. Anyhow, you'll
have to leave the apartment today.
- I haven't find another apartment yet... This was so unexpected.
Obviously, it was all in vain,. She didn't want to talk
any further. She picked up a book again, opened it where
the red, knitted bookmark was. He got up and said:
- Well, then... goodbye Madame.
She didn't say a word.
Lazar went out, closing the door quietly behind him. He
looked back, went up the stairs, to his room. A suitcase
was laying on his bad and a few books, twined with rope.
He went into the bathroom and put a shaving kit and a toothbrush
into his pocket. He looked one more time around the room.
The window was opened. The curtain was flickering. He went
to the exit, taking his old and crumpled raincoat over his
arm. It was a chilly, nice morning. Ice-cream salesmen with
their straw hats were pushing their carts across the street.
There was a milk truck in front of the restaurant. Lazar
paused and looked at his watch.
Rain
Lazar
stepped into a bog. His shoes were filled with water.
A
Walk
Midnight
has passed. Lazar went out of his apartment. He crossed
the street, creaking snow under his feet, and went down
the sideway by the park, toward the bridge. Light was off,
only one street lantern was on, which sent a kernels of
yellow light onto the snow in circuits. On his way, Lazar
met a sentinel who looked at him and, uninterested, raised
the collar of his coat, and turned to the other side. The
wind became stronger and Lazar hurried. He approached the
fence of the bridge. Suddenly, it seemed to him that he
saw something in the water. He stopped so that he could
eyed it better. He leaned over the fence, slipped and fell
down, into the water. Block of ice hit him in the head and
smashed his skull. Sentinel didn't notice anything, even
though he was only twenty meters away, stamping to get worm
That was a very cold winter.
Afternoon
talks
A year
already, maybe even two, Lazar is sleeping only with other
men's women. Not all of them are married but they are always
tied to other men. Very quickly, they meet their boyfriends,
fiances or husbands with Lazar. They approve of him and
characterize him as harmless. "With Lazar, nothing
could happen to a woman". Not a ray of jealousy. One
girl who was very attached to her finace, told him once:
- When I sleep with you, I don't cheat on him. With somebody
else, I would be cheating on him, but with you - no.
Her fiance like to come over to Lazar for a glass of vine.
Then they talk about politics, literature, music. There's
some perverse pleasure in it, sometimes.
Express
restaurant
Lazar
ordered a croissant and a white coffee. Croissants were
stiff, and a coffee cold.
French
toast
Every
morning Lazar makes French toasts. He wraps them while they
are still warm in colorful paper and puts them in his pocket,
when he goes to work. As soon as he gets in the office,
he hangs his coat on a hanger, and forgets about French
toast in his pocket. Around noon, he gets hungry, and goes
to a cafeteria across for an omelet and a glass of vine.
When he comes from work, he discovers French toast in his
pocket and throws them away because they are all stiff and
cold.
On
the beach
Tree
boys are walking down the beach. Lazar is lying behind the
rock, sunbathing, eavesdropping on their conversation.
- And when a black bird comes out, three times flies around
somebody, croaks three times and disappears... that means...
- That means that that somebody is going to die - the other
boy carried on.
Lazar decided to have a little fun. He turned into a black
bird, rose up to the sky and flying around the boys three
times, croaked three times. That evening all three boys
get diarrhea, probably because they ate green fruits which
they stole from their neighbor's orchard.
Turquoise
thread
Mother
sent Lazar to a mall to buy a turquoise thread. On his way,
he met his old friend from a war, and went with him to a
bistro, for a glass of pastis. In the evening, when he came
home without a thread, mother threw a wooden shoe pad at
him. Lazar locked himself in the bathroom and cried.
An
Morning
For
a third time, Lazar put out a cigarette he just lit. He
took a glass determined to drink it all up, but when he
saw that bottle was empty, he decided to drink slowly those
few last drops of vine.
He reached out for cigarettes, but he didn't feel like smoking
so he put his hands on the table. He scrutinized his nails.
Then he looked at her hands, which were holding a cup of
coffee, trembling a little. Her nails were different: red,
long, threatening.
- Why are you panting horny sheaths at the end of your fingers?
She looked at her hands, then at Lazar:
- Please, don't be so stupid in the morning.
Lazar was quite.
That was one of those days.
Sugar
A tall
woman with big, sprayed hair entered the restaurant.
Lazar's friend took a sip of coffee, added one more spoon
of sugar - sixth - if Lazar's count was right, and while
stirring the coffee, said:
- Hair spray is product of human alienation. It is used
by women who do not think that somebody will stroke their
hair.
Sunday
afternoon
Muggy
it is. Window is opened. From the outside heat, smells and
noise are coming. Neighbors from the floor bellow are cooking
curry. French chanson can be heard. The same record for
months now. Somewhere in the middle it clicks and pops and
then invisible hand pushes the gramophone needle a little
further. Somebody is watching television. Speaker says that
we can expect some heavy rain in the afternoon, and maybe
some hail. All in all, nice weather. Just muggy. Lazar approaches
the window. Floor in his room is made of rotten planks that
are crackling and which dangle when you step on them. He
walks slowly. First he gropes each planks with his toes
before he steps on it with his full weight. Just like in
a swamp not long ago, when they went to hunt ducks, near
Veneta, and they did not have money to pay for a boat or
a guide. From a window, roofs of buildings, chimneys of
some factory, gray sky (someone said like a colour of a
TV monitor which is set on a wrong frequency) can be seen.
If he leans over, Lazar sees the street, cars on the street,
parking clocks, waste containers, one red mailbox and few
men.
ECCE
DEVS FORTIOR ME, QVI VENIENS DOMINABITVR MICHI
Whole
village was congregated around the Revolution monument,
despite the heat. Men were playing balote and trick track
in the canteen's yard, women were whispering and laughing
covering their mouths with their hands, children were running
around, all smeared with fruits. Lazar was sitting on the
porch of the Casina de la Silva in a rocking chair,
drinking warm Anis del Mono with sugar cane, chasing
the flies reluctantly and looking over the square at the
volcano in a distance, which crest was covered with snow
- Quauhnahuac. The doctor and the drunk former
British consul had gone two hours ago, taking the tennis
racquets with them. So, a boring afternoon is to be expected.
Suddenly, around the corner, Jovan appeared, with his hair
in a mess and all in rags, like usual, and exclaimed:
- Ego vox clamantis in deserto – parate viam Domini qui
est per omnia saecula benedictus!
All was quite, only flies could be heard buzzing. The square
was looking in the direction of Jovan's hand. From there,
a small, hairy dog, with his tongue stuck out, finally appeared.
Lazar inhaled deeply, looked at his drink and said, more
to himself:
- I wish there were some ice.
Prologue
The
sun went down. Lazar is buttoning his vest, examining the
tie knot in front of the mirror and then, using a cane,
he slowly walks to Al Aktar, a small bar in Suleyman-Pasha
street. The heat presses even in the dark. Lazar sits at
his table in a corner, with a glass of arak made of mastic
- he drinks it because it reminds him on ouzo - with a thin,
Indian cigar between his teeth. Caoutchouc cufflinks incommodes
him, like usual, so he unbuttons them in the dark. Like
any other evening the restaurant is filled with students,
dock workers, barber from across - who is also a Turkish
spy, and retired police commissar - cabalist. They sit,
they are silent, they are waiting. Something to happen.
- Garçon, kam wahéd... and bring me another...
*
* *
He
died stupidly, in an unnecessary duel.
He was killed by some über-lieutenant Cohen from Czech
Budejovice, rabbi's son, who converted to Catholicism and
joined the army so that his parents won't make him marry.
