I do want to do something.


She is going to Istanbul (and changing her haircut)
May 21, 2008, 6:27 pm
Filed under: Beirut notes, love stories

This is the story of an image that moved from place to place, met different people and looked through different windows. Now it’s time to leave she said, but before doing so she would like to share with you some of the episodes of her journey through different rooms.

She found me, I think, among her stuff. I was made for a passport renewal, or for a visa (it might have been the renewal of her Venezuelan passport, or her student visa for London. It was in winter I remember and she was wearing this red-brownish lipstick that she still has, use to suit her although now she prefers to go for plain red. The other three of me are lost, who knows where. I don’t miss them anyways, and if they would have been here, I probably wouldn’t).

He asked if he could keep me but she said no. I got scared for a while, I mean, although he had some good records, I didn’t want to leave her now. But I met him again in her room (see entry push and pull)

this time, he looked like me but, as usual, he always had to do the big show and look dramatic; he was covered with trees and had a gun in his mouth, or in his other mouth. His eyes looked the same though, as if he just had seen something and had stopped for a while, apprehensive but inviting.

We stayed together for some time. She had decided that in that white frame, we belonged to each other. Then C. came along. Things were a bit breathless with him. C. asked if he could have me, and again she said no. This time I was really happy. I wouldn’t have like to stay in C.’s room, wallet, drawer even worse. Although he was nice, I don’t think things would have worked out with him.

We came back together and ended up in a beautiful new room. with this view.

she decided that me and him should stay together, in that same white frame until she saw Jacques Doillon’s movie, Une femme qui pleure, and realized that hippy love is sometimes sick that it was better to close windows to be able to open up others. That was Fin de Copenhage .

“Parmis les etres qu’il a pu rencontre sur sa route, cinq personnes seulement ont pu frapper son esprit « ceux l’a, je ne pourrai jamais les oublier, dit il » (Guy Debord –or was it Gitte? – and Asger Jorn). Wasn’t quite convinced. She changed her screen savor and decided to remove his photographs. It felt good because my corners were starting to slightly bent while he was comfortable behind his shinny glass.

Then S. came to Beirut and showed her the ID picture of her Jan Van Eyck application. She really liked it. S. had a kind of 20’s or 30′ s

“yo takin’ to me ” Look. Witty and elegant, always. We stayed on the table together for a while. She wanted us to stay next to each other but didn’t want to put us in a frame. The table was the closest object she had and she would look at it everyday, almost.

Until she finally decided to go to Istanbul to meet this window view. He was standing at the corner. Patient with a small smile and gentle eyes, waiting as well.

She needed a visa, although she thought that after 500 years of domination, Turkey should not ask for visas, but that is not what the ministry of foreign affairs said. She got this letter.

So I’m leaving now, with this letter renewing Lebanon’s friendship to Turkey. I’m going to end up on a visa for Istanbul. Nice destination. Her parents were living there before she was born and she recalls that her mother use to talk about Turkey as if she was very much in love at that time. I will miss her but I think that it’s time to go. And to all the people that wanted me, if I would have stayed with you, I wouldn’t have been able to tell this story. Sometimes it’s good to switch image and change haircut (I don’t think she will ever have that fringe again).

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2 Comments so far
Leave a comment

love. love having frames and shelves and narrations and melancholy and happiness and forgetfulness and longing and reflection and aspiring expectations and that’s all i can say. apart from this:

SKYPE:
sidsel nelund
15.19
it’s nice!
15.19
the text

Mirene Arsanios
15.19
you like it? good. tomorrow i’m going to the embassy…

sidsel nelund
15.19
sending you kisses – didn’t know you took a pic of us on pics
15.19
yes, move! (here s is thinking m is leaving now, to the embassy)

Mirene Arsanios
15.20
yes…but really I left your pic next to my pic on the desk for a while

sidsel nelund
15.20
nice
15.20
🙂

Mirene Arsanios
15.20
yes, was nice : )

sidsel nelund
15.20
memories
15.21
and traces and then thinking

Mirene Arsanios
15.21
yep, and stories

sidsel nelund
15.21
move! so the story will keep going

Mirene Arsanios
15.21
yes…

Comment by sidsel

now listening to camera obscura and noticing this song, which i like the sound of very much. It’s not perfectly portraying you, anyway, here it comes:

Your picture

My friend she told me such a story but
she didn’t know what I knew
I laughed with my friend when she got to the end
I knew we were laughing at you

She told me that you made some money and you
got yourself frames on the wall
People come by and they look at your face
And they say it’s the fairest of all

Of course you protest
That’s what you do best
You’re modest and shy to the end

You’re watching them a as they’re looking at you
And you know it was money well spent

She told me you’d given up drinking
to be with somebody you knew
And you tried to get into the bible
But it never got into you

You’ve still got some loyal disciples I
suppose that I’m one of the few
I shouldn’t have laughed Cause I mean you no harm
But my friend got to me before you

And next time I see you I’ll be pleased to see you
I hope you’ll be pleased to see me
I’ll visit your picture I won’t have the nerve
To tell them that they’ve got you all wrong

Comment by sidsel




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