Nineteenth note

Back in Budapest, an intermission in the rehearsals in Transylvania. I am reading Ödön von Horváth plays. Greatly written bitter dialogues, which slowly build up a story. People, who are struggleing, and keep making wounds on each other. This is the way they are only able to interact with each other, this is how they are able to express their pain. He was half Czech, half Hungarian originated, and he lived in Vienna, Austria, and wrote in German.
One track on the CD of Magnus's band (the Blood Sweat Drum 'n' Bass Big Band) perfectly matched to one of his plays; Kasimir and Karoline, a story about a young couple, who splits up. If I would make a performance or a film out of this play, I would definitely use this music.

And a cruel and fantastic Romanian movie: 4 Months, 3 Weeks & 2 Days. As minimalistic as possible, one camera (sometimes in the hand), no music. All in behalf of telling a story of an illegal abortion in the Romanian dictatorship, in the eighties.

Eighteenth note

I dreamed about two female lions this night. We escaped from them into my room with my mother and my oldest brother. I was holding the door, but they were stronger, they pushed it in, ran a circle in the room, made some wounds, and they went out. We tried to make a barricade, so they won't come in again, and a little later we moved back to my brothers room, because it was easier to close his door. My father was outside, and we tried to worn him with some form of telecommunication (maybe phone) to be careful.

I am in Romania, and I am participating on the rehearsals of a play about an encounter of a girl, who does not speak and a royal court. I do not have any duty on these rehearsals, I am only here to listen and to watch. The theatre is the one, where we have been together at the end of last summer, and where you were waiting with me for the director. The evening before, we had been in another town nearby, on the lecture of the Danish lama, and after on the party with him, in a discotheque. Than we slept in that big open garden, which seemed for the first glimpse abandoned, but after putting up our tent, you noticed some clothes hanged out on a rope, and in the morning a woman came out from the house and looked at us in a frightened way. We both haven't slept a lot, it started to rain, and you ran out to fix the tent. When we were waiting at the porter's lodge of the stage door, you fell asleep lying on some chairs.
This town is very small, everything is very close to each other, which I enjoy a lot. I rented out a room from a young girl, who is teaching art in several schools of the town. My room is almost empty, except for some plastic dolls in the corner, and her drawings on the walls, a lot of big nudes. This apartment is about 10 minutes walk from the theatre. The atmosphere of a theatre in a small town reminds me a little bit the experience, which I had at Odin. The mystery of big and untouchable actors disappear, and theatre becomes a profession, as normal, as anything else.