by Ickis
Well, I can tell a story:
I think it’s the earliest reminisce I have. The memory of it is vague and hazy, like an old film – I’m in a dark hallway, facing a brightly lit room over the doorway. Perhaps I was only a few years old, since the corridor’s ceiling seems as high as a hangar, and my knees are awkward and weak to stand, but all my attention is engrossed in what is going on inside the room. There are two or three silhouettes of adults, they leaned over a sofa, obscuring partly the view. There is a girl lying on the sofa, laughing hysterically, wriggling in some desperate fight, so I could see her legs thrashing about frantically in the air.
The girl seemed to me then quite grown up, but perhaps she was just seven or eight year old - in any case, she was much older than me by that time. The whole scene fascinated me with her utter helplessness, when she, so seemingly strong and independent, was forced into a laughing mess.
I don’t have a slightest idea when it all happened, and who that girl was. But I can tell, that I left my... well... crib may be, and walked all the way to the adjacent room, just because I heard the endless bursts of her laughter, as if I knew for sure – there is something of particular importance going on, and I must look at it. So perhaps that passion could even pre-existed that scene – maybe it is something one is born with.
Well, I can tell a story:
I think it’s the earliest reminisce I have. The memory of it is vague and hazy, like an old film – I’m in a dark hallway, facing a brightly lit room over the doorway. Perhaps I was only a few years old, since the corridor’s ceiling seems as high as a hangar, and my knees are awkward and weak to stand, but all my attention is engrossed in what is going on inside the room. There are two or three silhouettes of adults, they leaned over a sofa, obscuring partly the view. There is a girl lying on the sofa, laughing hysterically, wriggling in some desperate fight, so I could see her legs thrashing about frantically in the air.
The girl seemed to me then quite grown up, but perhaps she was just seven or eight year old - in any case, she was much older than me by that time. The whole scene fascinated me with her utter helplessness, when she, so seemingly strong and independent, was forced into a laughing mess.
I don’t have a slightest idea when it all happened, and who that girl was. But I can tell, that I left my... well... crib may be, and walked all the way to the adjacent room, just because I heard the endless bursts of her laughter, as if I knew for sure – there is something of particular importance going on, and I must look at it. So perhaps that passion could even pre-existed that scene – maybe it is something one is born with.
