Malíři v Paříži

While reading how Rilkes Danish man in Paris, Malte, commented on women in dresses with a long bottom line on the back, always some upper lot of them unbuttoned since dressing up alone had not been on the plan of those who designed nor – possibly –these women wearing them, I am looking forward to Iva Bittova performing with David Zambrano. I'm caught surprised hearing from Iva after the performance that she did not even meet David before that night, where they danced and played an intimate lost and found of devoted lovers, intimate despite the solititude David sometimes had incorporated in what I then learned were improvisations. Only when, after Iva was singing for a long while, David had intoned a few tunes, the couple get in touch in a more conventional way. How peculiarly sound and even more voice is about command and relation! Without feeling too well, I have to go to H.C. Andersens Odense the day after tomorrow, hoping that this time hysteria, that seems rampant around the network project, will be the successful or at least acknowledgeable one. Perhaps there is not much hope these days as the Danish condition is somewhat shallow and of short-living hope. That was my impression in that election night last Thursday when I saw a tremendous number of party people in high spirits despite of considerable losses in votes.