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Pazardzhik
by
Mira Minkova
To Hristo Karastoyanov - The Grandfather
One of Bulgarian best fiction writers
Who granted me the title of that story
The very first thing that I found out was that this thing happened in one of
those extended Sundays, this winter, or the last winter, I am not sure. It
happened in an unusually sunny morning, when that same O. woke up so
unexplainably happy that she had the feeling her heart was going to burst! She
put on her clothes quickly and she dart out from home. For sure I know, besides
I remember very well when the guy told me that she didn't have a clue where from
she got this summer mood in mid December. Neither where it was going to take
her.
And here is what happened in that sunny December morning:
O. closed her eyes against the unusual December sun and just like that, in the
middle of the street, all of a sudden she remembered that children's game they
used to have! To go where wind takes you! In that years, they never managed to
get to a place more far away than some neightbouring rectangular garden or, at
most - to some near-by rectangular neightbourhood. But now O. could go where ever,
where ever she wanted to!
As soon as she remembered that, she closed her eyes and smiled against some
passing-by neightbour (who was the one who later told me that story!) and yet
before he could say "Good morning", she went on with fast steps through the
melting snow. She was thinking on how to change the rules.
And this turned to be not hard at all to decide. As soon as she stepped at the
bus-stop, the bus stopped just infront of her as she had called it. She got into
it, and as it is already probably clear to you, this turned into the only and
basic rule - TO GET ON THE FIRST THING THAT PASSES! And it happened that the bus
was going directly to the station. And she was right to think that there
wouldn't be anything to decide anymore.
As soon as she got off it, O. checked right away which is the next train, then
she hesitated a bit, went and checked which is the next bus. The bus was going
to Turnovo [Note: Beautiful town in Bulgaria], and the train - to Bourgas [Note:
Town at the Black Sea coast]. Two-way ticket for the bus cost more money than
she had so O. went back at ticket-office at the station and as she heard from
inside that "Where are you traveling to, please!" without any thinking
she said that for Pazardzhik! [Note: Town famous for its big market - "pazar"
is a Turkish word for market]
She was there in the late afternoon - then exactly when the sun was
threateningly blinking behind the smokestacks of the grey rectangular building
near the mudguard next to the bus stop. The first that came at that raged
bus-stop was some trolley car 1E, which (of course!) was going to the center.
There exactly did O. get off, but when she looked around it a bit, rightly or
not I don't know, but O. thought "God, in this town there are only three
crossed streets!" And when she had already walked along the three
of them, she said to her self that may she make up a new rule before she dies from
boredom!
And then she decide she would visit the first thing for which she sees a poster
or a notice. It just had to start soon or to have started (like for example an
exhibition, theathre, whatever!). But in that town, I mean in Pazardzhik, there
wasn't even a single poster, not a single notice! By absolute chance, walking
around O. got to the library club - it turned out however that now inside there
were only traveling agencies! Nothing.
O. walked on along the first street at the right side (she made up a new rule
that she will go only at the right) and it took her straight to the shop of the
Artitists Union. There they were selling barby dolls. She didn't even come in
and she went again on the right. And in this way, on the right, and on the
right, she finally got to that person who was selling earthenware. "A man of
art!", immediately thought O. and she rushed to him.
"Are you", she asked, "making this pots by your own?"
"Yes", the guy said , "on my own". And O. cheered up so much that she hardly
didn't step over the pots!
"You are", she said, "the only artist who remained in this town!"
And he, a guy looking like a gypsy, said: "The only one who remained, ha!
The only one!" And he stared at the clay balls next to the pots, he pointed them
with one finger and he said angrily: "And I formed man from the dust of the
ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a
living being"... BEING?! Phu!" an he spit to the clays direction. "You know
what I am doing to the people of art, huh?", he shouted at her, "You know what I
am doing to them! I am putting them here, inside this pots you see here!"
And as you can imagine, this entirely confused poor O., she was even a little
scared because this guy here was certainly a crazy man. However she had to say
something in reply to him and she said: "You are lying (she said!) if there were
people of art inside, you would be able to show them to me!"
And that gypsy jumped and shouted, "Hey, girl, are you calling me a liar! I
can show you, sure I can show you!" And he points to the pots and says: "Take
them and rub them to see!" "If he kills me", thought O. in that
same moment, "If
this crazy guy kills me here none will ever find because I didn't tell anyone
that I was going somewhere. And how would I", she thought, " tell anyone
when they would say I am crazy just like this crazy guy here" And it was a
true craziness - to go in some unfamiliar town, and at the top of all to have
fights with the crazy men!
And, not having anything else to do, she started rubbing the pots. But imagine,
from time to time and hop! A man of art pops up from inside! And when more of
them popped up like that and O. could look at them carefully and as they were
together, at a crowd, she saw that the crazy guy who was maybe not crazy at all
was right when he was saying that thing about the being. The people of
art, as soon as they went out, started talking about some project of some new
better world. The gypsy started laughing and he said: "See now," he said,
"see now!". And O. fearfully remembered that The road to Hell is covered
with...
And she shouted, "Put them", she shouted, "inside the pots while it is not
late!" And she rushed away before she had seen more miracles.
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