- Hey listen, look what they write in these newspapers! What are the "bearded"!- So listen or watch?
- So listen! «Leonid Utesov said that everybody would be born in Odessa, but not all succeeded. Tatiana Solomatina fortunate - she was born in Odessa. And in the words of another great Odessa person, Isaac Babel (if you believe, too, the delicate person - Konstantin Paustovsky), in Odessa will have its own Maupassant .... "
- So what? Someone was lucky to be born, someone was lucky to be. You are lucky to be born and to become. You're lucky the full right to write about Odessa. Miss luck at the full right after all, what is lucky - will not be as in Odessa.
Certainly, in this text you will find a lot of interesting facts, characteristic OdEssian delicious words, turns of phrase and interpreting their options, however, the charm of this book lies elsewhere. In a very personal (the pronoun "I" is not just so) and maximum volumetric interpretation of simple but great truths and sensations. Humane.
One eye can look at the world from its own tender age, again not easy to see and feel all the joy, resentment, and revelation and at the same time, the second eye to see the world today, to notice how many things have changed or remained the same, like a lot, it turns out we remember. And as it turns out a lot we can forget.
To remember - listen to the person who talks about the soul of their places and times. About immediate peoples - not necessarily sugar-positive, one of which is land Morak - but, Lord, how fascinating accurately convey all the sensations, feelings, colors, smells - as well as something that has no name or definition - one of only just essence.
And someone this story and simply transfer the dip to where "... tomatoes Mikado, white melons, rose bushes, red poppies and white sand. My Odessa language - it's plate "monastic" beach, the white balls Langeron, dusty Luzanovka, "Gold Coast", "Otrada" and a botanical garden, and somebody through that space-time and thanks to him, touches it to his, too personal. The same glorious, beloved, close or distant, just not yet expressed in words.
One eye can look at the world from its own tender age, again not easy to see and feel all the joy, resentment, and revelation and at the same time, the second eye to see the world today, to notice how many things have changed or remained the same, like a lot, it turns out we remember. And as it turns out a lot we can forget.
To remember - listen to the person who talks about the soul of their places and times. About immediate peoples - not necessarily sugar-positive, one of which is land Morak - but, Lord, how fascinating accurately convey all the sensations, feelings, colors, smells - as well as something that has no name or definition - one of only just essence.
And someone this story and simply transfer the dip to where "... tomatoes Mikado, white melons, rose bushes, red poppies and white sand. My Odessa language - it's plate "monastic" beach, the white balls Langeron, dusty Luzanovka, "Gold Coast", "Otrada" and a botanical garden, and somebody through that space-time and thanks to him, touches it to his, too personal. The same glorious, beloved, close or distant, just not yet expressed in words.
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