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The bottle of Eau du Kiém stands on the dressing-table next to the empty wine-glass on a round metallic tray. L’eau de table de qualité. Gazéifiée-rafraichissante, digestive. Soutirée par Minolux S.A., 2 rue du Kiém, Luxembourg — Neudorf. Grand Duché de Luxembourg. The fringes of the white nylon curtain walk in the breeze all the way across the wide window just above the sill over the radiator. On the bedside-table lies the postcard of Palermo face down to let the eye fall on la si gracieuse dame aux yeux de vair that surely means a fur, not green or glass as apparently intended and signed with an illegible initial.

Outside the window the bridge spans a vast canyon with trees and houses down its slopes at the bottom of which runs a two-inch wide stream. Beyond the bridge and canyon stands the palace or town hall. Unless perhaps yes didn’t Cinderella have souliers de vair? Which still meant fur. Qui fait trembler mon coeur de fol espoir. Can one have furry eyes? Translate the following passage into German and comment on the formation of these words: vair, ma douce amour (gender) und so weiter natürlich Fräulein you have passed. Sehr geehrtes Fräulein. We wish to inform you that in view of your fluent knowledge of French you have obtained the Dolmetscher Zulage which means that you may now draw 80 RM extra per month on your salary as Assistant Censor. Lieber Heinrich, hab Dank für Deinen wunderbaren Brief. Mes chers parents. J’espère que vous allez bien. Ne vous faites pas de souci pour moi. Depuis qu’on m’a emmené en Allemagne je travaille ici à Nüremberg dans une usine. Au fond je m’en fous. Meine Lieben alle! Lieber Horst, Lieber Helmut, Lieber Hans. Sehr geehrtes Fräulein et douce dame qui fait trembler mon coeur de fol espoir.

Where when and to whose heart did one do that? And what difference does it make? None except by subtraction from the marked feminine to the unmarked masculine or vice versa as the language of a long lost code of zones lying forgotten under layered centuries of thickening sensibilities winds its way surreptitiously up through the years into no more than the distant brain way up to tickle a mere thought or two such as where when and to whose heart did one do that?

— Wherever particular people congregate … you smoke too much. You tap your cigarette too often into the ash-tray and you never smoke them to the end, just as you get on first-name terms with everyone and don’t remember their surnames. So why don’t you marry me after all these years?

— You know why.

— Oh that, I can’t think why you bother. You don’t even believe it any more.

— No.

— Well then, what difference does it make?

— Just — how to explain, a sort of blind protest at the lack of freedom to choose, for or against.

— But my dear, you have the freedom to take no notice. If you no longer believe in the validity of any annulment, or its failure, based on half-truths and antiquated sophistries?

— We live in an age of transition, haven’t you heard? The Church will find a voice. One day. Perhaps.

— Oh yes, the Church reforms but always at least a hundred years too late, and with an agony of resistance over the one per cent of what they ought to do at any one time. Even now — but you know Congresses better than anyone. I wouldn’t mind if they’d got stuck in the 18th century or the 17th, but the 19th, ugh!

— Yes, yes, all right. But calm down. It really doesn’t matter any more we’ve had fun haven’t we?

— We have played those games mein Lieber. Yes. But if it doesn’t matter to you why did you once make it matter to me? For what? Just the need to belong and to obey? Look where that got us before.

Such conversations do occur occasionally representing more or less truly something there no doubt and a small clutch of anguish perhaps moving up quickly to the distant brain way up with where when and to whose heart did one make anything matter?

In Istanbul, considered one of the most beautiful cities in the world, you will find a land of legends and history where East and West come face to face. Its legendary history starts in the eighth century B.C. Founded by the Megarions and called Byzantium after Byzas, their commander, it soon became a trade centre because of dein Brust like a mosque domed on the night-sky my hallowed structure like a minaret piercing the Milky Way with all that gorgeous calligraphy institutionalised and dead.

A la recherche des amours perdues. Lisez l’émouvante histoire de Marie-Félicie de Montmorency. Chantilly 1650. The calendar between the two mirrors shows a beautiful of course Japanese girl in a kimono against lake and pagoda beneath the letters in red ZETINA. Dikiş makina radiolan. Elle aima Monsieur de Montmorency de tous les amours qu’on peut imaginer, car elle n’aima que lui. Above the mirror hangs a pale green sign with large black squiggles on it. The Turkish ladies occupy each hairdresser’s loving attention with tall complicated styles regardless of other waiting femininities less confident, every strand here, no there, a little more forward and you’ve brushed the curl right out of it please use the tongs or the Turkish equivalent and taking literally the final Va-bene-così gesture with the mirror held to the back of the head and no, no-va-bene or the Turkish equivalent please brush it out back-comb it re style again and again ancora. Un amour de soutien-gorge. Ça pigeonne formidablement. The man talks to the mirrored reflection of the lady and the lady talks to the mirrored reflection of the man. Seen from the profile they do not proffer anger dissatisfaction and polite attempt to please at each other at all but only at the mirror. Votre déodorant. Choisissez-le sérieusement chez votre pharmacien. What does that mean? Madame? Up there. Ah. Arabe. Je ne sais pas madame. Just vital mysteries lost, euphemised into proverbs for the day. I wouldn’t mind if they’d got stuck in the eighteenth century or the seventeenth but the nineteenth ugh. Ça va comme ça madame? Oui, merci, teşekkür ederim. Lutfen madame. Allaha ısmalardık. Güle-güle! So go the thankyous the goodbyes the welgohome in the smattering of the mouthpiece at twenty-nine or forty-five even and the baby-face stares out of lather under the letters Müjde! PEARS bebek sabonu — Lux sabonu hayranım. Hayramm. Turkish ladies surely. Hayranım lutfen. Hayranım? Er — la toilette s’il vous plaît. Ah au fond à gauche madame. Merci. Tuvalet. ERKEK. KADIN. Of course KADIN. Ka-dın ka-dın ka-dın. Not hayranım which looked up in the pocket-dictionary says haylaz faul, hayli viel, hayran verwundert where when and to whose heart did one do that?

In Izmir (ancient Smyrna) you will find everything for your convenience and pleasure. The city has an admirable position at the end of the bay of the same name. With its hot dry summers and mild rainy winters mild indeed, does it say mild? Well, if you will arrange your Archaeologists Congresses in January. True, madam, but most of us go on digs during the summer. In England for example, at Stonehenge where I have special Wiltshire? How interesting. It forms a perfect centre for visiting the ancient ruins of Ephesus, Pergamon, Troy. Oh, you know Wiltshire? Quite well. Have you ever visited Stonehenge? Where stones talk walk make love have fun until they come to a standstill. Of course. Ah, well, then you will take a special interest I hope in my paper on the relationship between Stonehenge and Mycenae. The lintels you see, constructed by the fire-breathing wolf under the letters Petrol Ofısı and above Güle-güle means that the grey-lined bus stretches its innumerable armchairs towards the axe-motif you see passing a place called Yavaş in black letters on yellow. The Archeological Museum, situated in the Kültür (Culture) Park, houses the objects brought from Izmir, Ephesus, Pergamon, Sardes, Aydin, Mügla, Denizli and Miletos. But perhaps you wouldn’t agree? Yavaş. I ought to introduce myself professor William Something didn’t quite catch your name, excuse me, I probably know you, at least, your work in your own field? Oh no, no field at all, just translation you know. Oh? From English? Into what? From French into German. German? Ah. Do you like it? I mean, the work? Do you find the technical jargon hard to follow? Well on one level Yavaş, er, well yes in a way. But everything comes with practice. Even archeology? Everything, excuse me, Monsieur le Président? Oui madame from the seat in front vous voulez du feu? No thank you but we keep passing a place called Yavaş, not on the map have we gone round in madame no wonder, Yavaş means slow. Ah, voilà, merci monsieur. De rien madame. How do you mean everything? Oh, archeology, medicine, irrigation, economic aid for the under-developed areas and so forth. Goodness, do you work it up in advance? A bit, yes. At least the relevant jargon. But one soon learns, and then forgets, you see one has to understand immediately because the thing understood slips away, together with the need to understand. Oh. We even had a conference of archetypologists in Athens last week. Archetypologists? Well, you know, a sort of mixture of mythologists, psychiatrists and structural anthropologists. Structural? What do you mean structural? Well they didn’t make it very clear themselves, really, sometimes it seems to mean the structure of primitive societies, or perhaps the structure of the system they use to make sense of it all, sometimes the structure of myths, you know, up into the sky or down into the earth. Ah yes, of course. Unless they meant perhaps the structure of the imagination itself. Oh I see, the imagination. How fascinating.