The story seemed to end there, but fate thought otherwise: the young , the complete surprise of the author, then picked up his guitar and sang with a voice of velvet yellow fruit grown in Turkey.
sang, unconscious, the woman, who was creating the storm and the sky blue ink in November went like a herd of horses devouring rivers and plains, and Max knew, overwhelmed by memories, could not longer hold back and said to the audience "stay, and I'll tell you what's really behind this song in my life." Affan's prophecy was coming true, the painter: the story was the only way to revive the beautiful Mǎsa from femora long, odalisque and a robber at the same time. It was also the only way, Max thought, to thwart the melancholy, saudade black coming from the East.
He told, and Maja translated, the story of Mǎsa and his three men, and when he got to the point of memorable fruit vendor in the bazaar shouting "Yellow Quinces of Istanbul, there was no one who crying in the room next to the swollen Danube autumn rains. But a strange thing happened: the men and women in the room did not listen to the translation, but his words, as if the pace was stronger meaning.
sang, unconscious, the woman, who was creating the storm and the sky blue ink in November went like a herd of horses devouring rivers and plains, and Max knew, overwhelmed by memories, could not longer hold back and said to the audience "stay, and I'll tell you what's really behind this song in my life." Affan's prophecy was coming true, the painter: the story was the only way to revive the beautiful Mǎsa from femora long, odalisque and a robber at the same time. It was also the only way, Max thought, to thwart the melancholy, saudade black coming from the East.
He told, and Maja translated, the story of Mǎsa and his three men, and when he got to the point of memorable fruit vendor in the bazaar shouting "Yellow Quinces of Istanbul, there was no one who crying in the room next to the swollen Danube autumn rains. But a strange thing happened: the men and women in the room did not listen to the translation, but his words, as if the pace was stronger meaning.
- Paul Rumiz
- quince Istanbul
- The Storytellers Feltrinelli
- pages: 145, 146
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