| | The unbearable lightness of being (19th Dec 22 at 12:41am UTC) | | She suddenly felt a surge of admiration for Sabina, who regarded her as a friend. Her admiration turned fear and suspicion into friendship. She almost forgot that she had come to take pictures. Sabina had to remind her. Trisha finally looked away from the paintings and toward the daisy-like bed in the middle of the room. Next to the bed was a small table, on which stood a mannequin, the kind of head that barbers use to hold wigs. Sabina had no wig on her wig stand and a bowler hat upside down. It belonged to my grandfather. She said with a smile. It was the kind of black, hard bowler hat that Trisha had only seen in the movies, the kind that Chaplin wore. She smiled, picked it up, looked at it, and said, "Would you like me to take a picture of you wearing it?" The idea made Sabina laugh for a long time. Teresa put down her hat, picked up her camera and began to shoot. After about an hour of shooting, she suddenly asked, "How about some nudity?" "Nude photos?" Sabina smiled. "Yes," Trisha repeated her suggestion more boldly, "naked." "You have to drink." Sabina opened the bottle. Chapter II (3) Teresa felt her body weaken and suddenly stammered. Sabina walked around with the wine and talked about her grandfather, the mayor of a small city. Sabina had never seen him, and all he had left behind was the top hat and a photograph of him standing on a high platform with the dignitaries of the town. I can't see the picture clearly. I don't know what they are doing on the stage. Maybe they are presiding over a ceremony to unveil a monument to an important person. That person may have worn a round hat to attend a public ceremony. Sabina kept talking about hats and her grandfather until she finished her third glass of wine and then said, "I'll be right back." Then he flashed into the bathroom. She came out in her bathrobe, and when Teresa held up her camera to select the lens, she opened her bathrobe. The camera is both a robotic eye for Teresa to observe Thomas's lover and a veil to hide her own face. It took Sabina some time to completely remove her bathrobe, only to discover that she was in a much more awkward position than she had expected. After a few more minutes of posturing, she walked over to Trisha and said, "Now it's my turn to take your picture.". Take it off! Sabina heard orders from Thomas many times: "Take off!" It was etched in her memory. Now, Thomas's lover had given Thomas's orders to the wife of Thaus, and the two women were linked by the same magical universe. This was Thomas's way, not to touch, flatter, or implore, but to command that his innocent conversation with a woman suddenly turn to sex, suddenly, unexpectedly, gently and firmly, Inflatable indoor park , even with authority. And he kept his distance: in those days he never touched the woman he commanded. He often treated Teresa in this way, though softly, almost whispering, but it was an order, and she never refused to obey. Now hearing this command, she felt a stronger desire to obey. To act in obedience to a stranger's command is in itself a peculiar madness; and from such a command coming from a woman rather than a man, there is more fanaticism in the madness. When Sabina took the camera, Teresa took off her clothes and stood naked in front of Sabina, looking disarmed. It was indeed disarmed: the weapon she used to cover her face and aim at Sabina was disarmed. She was completely at the mercy of Thomas's lover. She was intoxicated by this beautiful conquest, and she hoped that the moment when she stood naked opposite Sabina would never end. Sabina, too, I think, was fascinated by the strange sight of her lover's wife standing before her with strange obedience and timidity. But after pressing the shutter two or three times, she was almost frightened by her own intoxication, and in order to dispel it, she laughed loudly. Trisha smiled, too, and they put on their clothes.
All the crimes of the Russian Empire in the past were carefully covered up by them: the exile of a million Lithuanians, the killing of thousands of Poles, and the suppression of the Tatars on the Crimean Peninsula. These remain in our memory, but there is no photo information left. Sooner or later all this will be declared a fabrication. But the invasion of the Czech Republic in 1968 was different, and photographs and films of the event were left in archives around the world. Czech photographers and photojournalists truly realize that they are the best people to do this job: to preserve the face of violence for the distant future. For several days in a row, Teresa walked around the streets where the situation had eased, taking pictures of the soldiers and officers of the invading army. The invaders didn't know what to do. They had listened carefully to the instructions of their superiors on how to deal with firing and throwing stones at them, but they had not received orders on how to deal with these camera lenses. She shot roll after roll and sent about half of the undeveloped film to the foreign journalists. Many of her photos have appeared in Western newspapers: tanks; fists in demonstrations; destroyed houses; blood-stained red, white and blue Czech flags surrounding invading tanks at high speed; teenage girls in incredibly short skirts kissing pedestrians on the road at will to tease the poor sex-starved invading soldiers in front of them. As I have said, the invasion was not merely a tragedy, but an orgy of hatred, full of strange exultation. She took fifty of her painstakingly processed photographs to Switzerland and gave them to a mass-circulation news photo magazine. The editor received her graciously, asked her to sit down, looked at the photos, praised them, and explained that the specific time of the event had passed and that they could not be published. But all this has not passed in Prague! She retorted, using her poor German to try to explain to the other side that it was at this very moment, even though the country was under occupation, that everything was against them,Inflatable mechanical bull, that workers' councils were being set up in factories, that students were walking out of school to demand the withdrawal of Russian troops, and that the whole country was shouting from its heart. That's what you can't believe! No one here cares about all this. 。 joyshineinflatables.com | |
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