Jan 4, 2022
“Jess! Aren’t you going to the test?”
“Yes, once I finish this damn thing!”
(oldie)
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Yemen
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Russia
seen from Austria
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Bosnia & Herzegovina
seen from United States
“Jess! Aren’t you going to the test?”
“Yes, once I finish this damn thing!”
(oldie)
A cool Danish bosslady.
Some things are not too different.
Had to rewrite “flick” several times so it doesn’t look like, you know lol. I like this panel.
(ref)
19:48
I’ve had this image of old Art ending up on the beach once again, after he’d escaped his care home. The first time, he just sat at the train station. The next time he paid a ticket, and just looked out the window... then hitchhiked to the coast, telling them he lived just nearby.
Once informed, Ranit had to ask another dentist to take over as she drove to fetch him. They were unable to have a conversation except Edith and one other supervisor telling Art to get in the car, and Ranit drove them all back to the care home.
Because of that, Ranit will experience a hallucination as “Shell” plays on the vinyl player. What are actually just light and condensation on the window, a certain old woman will appear by the same seaside Art was found, sporting peacock hairclips on her grey hair. Inspired by that green flare from my mobile phone torch.
Such special effects are what keep this fire going.
copenhagen
(I’ve been to a nursing home before in England, yet I couldn’t picture old Art there. Maybe he’d favour somewhere more… quintessentially European.)
Longish blond-haired, brown-eyed Malthe, the dentist’s son had come over for his break from university. Ranit carried a box of records and put it on the table.
“Hey, Malthe, can you do me a favour? But be very careful. Copy these for, say, a journalist? Paris Ruskins. She wants to know about your granddad.”
“Really?” Malthe had to check if his headphones were off his ears, but were instead worn on his neck. “What’s the deal? He doesn’t even know half of it.”
Ranit laughed, “Your realism stings. Just be an angel and do it for them, hm?”
Malthe gingerly surveyed one of the records. “Isn’t this classical music?”
“Why don’t you hear that for yourself?”
“Look, it’s not even his, it says… Ernst Jin.”
“Ernst Jin…” Ranit realised. “EJ. That funeral. What year was this?” The faded handwriting on the record’s label read 1972. “There’s got to be more,” Ranit went back to the box, removing more of them.
-
Though it was expected of Art, Malthe couldn’t help feeling nervous. The old man looked as if he was anyone but his granddad. “You wanted to see me?”
“I’m here to put on new music for your gadget,” Malthe patted his laptop he’d removed from his rucksack. “Well, technically it isn’t new if you remember it.”
Which Art indeed did as he pressed Play. “You’ve had a listen?”
“Yes.”
Art smiled wryly. “Not many people’s cup of tea. You don’t play the piano?”
“No.”
“Good. Not the best instrument to play if you have a broken heart. A girl’s got to be something if even music cannot express her. Only… heartbreak.”
Malthe raised his brows. “That’s true.”
“I don’t remember who, but he had the right idea of tango… being the language of love. You agree?”
“Yeah, I think I’ve heard that one before.”
“The Abendrot played the same language… only he couldn’t dance.”