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Martta stared at the woman sitting on a chair next to her bed. There was something familiar about her, but she was not sure if she was supposed to know who she was. She was a fine lady, with gold earrings and spoke with a pretentious voice. What was expected of her? Martta’s brain was like the sky in high summer, completely void and empty, except for a few wisps of cumulus cloud, high and fluffy, sailing slowly in the blue. The orange capsules she had been eating for two decades, had slowed down process, better at the beginning but then in the end they had failed to stop the process of forgetting. Instead, she had been given a small, white pill at bedtime. They told her it made her happier. To be in good terms with the inevitable. With the life she had left, now when there was not so much happening around her any longer. The old Alatalo farm house she had already forgotten, the soft caress of summer wind on her cheek, sometimes she could still recall a glimpse of the rustle of aspen leaves on the path down to the lake, perhaps the wood smoke swirling into evening sky from the lakeside sauna bathhouse.
Now, there was this old woman sitting next to her bed saying “Mom, don’t you remember me, I’m your eldest daughter, Maarit” and she bent to her, came too close, smelling of perfume and touched her cheek and she felt uncomfortable. Her chin was too small and there were wrinkles on her neck.
(Maarit who, there are so many women with that name, it’s quite common). Next to the woman there was a tall man with white hair with long, straight hair tied in a ponytail, was he her husband or some boyfriend candidate for her, Martta? He was too old, anyway and his hair was too long.
“Martta, the dinner is served”
She looked at her guests and hoped they would leave. What did they want of her, an old woman who couldn’t even remember her name? The sound of plates being set on the table, chairs being pulled out and the smell of food was her key. The steps of the kitchen staff came nearer. Maarit said goodbye to her mother and left with Mara right behind her, with a nursing home personnel accompanying them to the locked door. It was always locked, because otherwise the elderly occupants would have run away to the street and nearby patch of woods, especially in the first days when they were brought there. They didn’t have a bad life or were treated poorly either, it was just that there weren’t enough staff to take them on daily walks and many of them who lived there now were elderly farm wives and country people, used to being outdoors many hours a day. The spoke with the staff a little and walked then to the car parked in guest parking area.
“You didn’t tell her” said Mara.
(Käännösprosesi alkanut. Toivon saavani sen valmiiksi nyt talven aikana.)

Kuolema Tuhannen nuolen lahdella on nyt julkaistu. En myy sitä itse vaan se on saatavissa BoD:n kirjakaupassa nyt heti ja kohta nettikirjakaupoista ja toivottavasti joistakin kirjastoistakin lainattavissa.

Olen saanut ensimmäisen kirja-arvosteluni Amazon Kindleen :)

" It’s an autobiographical account of life in Colombia in the seventies, before the narco traffickers, before M-19 and FARCC, when the city of Cali was full of idealism and a destination for intellectuals and travelers. The story takes you through the history of the country all the way to present day Colombia, intertwining recipes, stories of witchcraft, modern and ancient customs with the history of her family and the bittersweet story of their lives. The book is available on Amazon and Google play store. I’ve been unable to put it down and and just read it back to front in less than day. I highly recommend checking it out.

Englanninkielinen käännös kirjastani on saanut uuden nimen ja uuden kansikuvan. Saatavilla e-kirjana 15 elok. lähtien.
Nyt valmistelen Trumpetinsoittajan viimeistä versiota jonka on tarkoitus tulla painosta pokkarina joulumarkkinoille.

Also, about the bittersweet fruit dessert: I found that process of taking the tartness out of the fruit being prepared for this traditional Christmas dessert is close to what memory does to the events of a life lived; it takes out the bitterness but leaves the flavor, the aroma and improves the consistency.


Käyttäjän kirjoittamat viestit

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