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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 21 | volume IV | June-July, 2001



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 21June-July, 2001
Prose

A Celluloid Stereotype

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p. 1
Andrea Pisac

    Rainy and grim, lazy Sunday. A celluloid stereotype. We were lying naked in the unmade bed. For the last few nights I kept on lying in bed on the spot where the sheet had folded several times and tucked under itself. Almost the entire blanket covers him, while only my most feminine parts are shielded. So not to catch a cold, he says. My ardous womanliness always aches. He puts his arms around my shoulders and neck, he is still and sleeps deep into my skin.
    – I love him – the thought occurs to me.
    Silence. The sky is boiling and darkening. Strange, heavy spices. A bit too strong, like in Indian cuisine.
    – I dreamt tonight that I had a lover, hey, you – I say after a moment's thought.
    – Ha, ha, ha… – the dreamy man bursts into laughter – You had a lover?
    I don't even know why I'm saying this. For I love him. With all my heart. I'm happy to have such a wonderful man beside me. Yes, there are more reasons for my happiness: young, beautiful, intelligent (it will all be water under the bridge some day). But that man… He alone makes me happy. Because I have him (it will all be blown apart one day).
    – He was a blond Frenchman.
    – You had a French lover??? – The First and Last and Always wonders laughingly.
    – Yes – I flush – has the cliché become worn out? Latin lover?
    – The rain is coming – he thinks – And how the hell did it happen to rain today? Out of the blue?
    – Yes, I told you so – I repeat proudly.
    – And tomorrow it will be both rain and snow.
    – What??? – cries the lover.
    – Yes.
    – How do you know?
    – I watch the weather report – I stick firmly to the TV truths – the sleet will fall.
    – What's sleet anyway? – he asks angrily.
    – It's something between a drop and a flake. It's when… you know, the most disgusting thing, in fact, hey, you…
    – Like slush?
    – Yes, it's just that slush doesn't fall – I stare blankly into the lines of my white wardrobe – you always step into slush. It's an earth-bound animal. Doesn't know how to fly or fall.
    – I cheated on you while you were taking your lessons in culture. We stayed at his place in Paris. He offered to put us up because






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