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Thread: Thus spake m. Solzhenitsof!

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    SOLZHENITSOF'S ORIGINAL NOVEL
    THE MAIN TEXT
    WHY AND WHAT WILL I WRITE?

    THE TALES OF MORALITY RABBIES TOLD LITTLE SOLZHENITSOF (4)

    THE REMINDER (From the very beginning of the previous page) / RAQQA

    (Kurdish children of Mama and Kurdish orphans shout in the shape of their instant bizarre choir): It wouldn't break our heart too if TURCO-Islamic terrorists don't go on with taking hold of things here and there. Mom (overhearing it and turning to mama): Take hold of what things, Kurdish mama? Mama (as if sitting in something like a sort of chair, and standing still behind her chair): The evil deed. Mom: Mama you've had a shock, huh? Mama: Yes, we've all had a shock, but we mankind make two different classes from the point of shocks: first, those perceiving the situation namely the shock and the latter ignoring it...Daddy: Let's be realistic...OKAY? Young SOLZH: We would not, would never, be foolish enough not to be able to perceive the shock to which we have been exposed! Daddy: We shouldn't put this affair in irresponsible hands! Mom: Daddy won't be going to put the matter in anybody or everybody's hands, Daddy is not going' to suicide! He wants us to get that into our heads, all of us! (Mama sits above mom, SOLZH's sister, the girl and the woman turns to a point as if there is a door.) Mama (To mom): Mommy! Mom (To Mama): Mommy! (They read simultaneously: we're just as hopeful and optimistic as you are young SOLZH about Kurdish lady warriors and Kurdish Lads' prospects, we have faith in prayer but nevertheless there are certain matters that have to be discussed in RAQQA, and dealt with, because otherwise comes synthetic fate waiting to be made by Islamic terror... Young SOLZH: Mom and Mama, will you please cut you anxious exclamations short. Daddy (To SOLZH) Will you please get mom's briefcase out of her room? Madam: Yes, honey, do it please. (SOLZH rises, goes out through their imaginary chat hall) There is solely silence for a while... (Two women, some from city and the others from Kurdish mountains, are to be taking the air on the steps of a building made of words of chattering in a chat place. The citizen women are Mom, her daughter and the other ones are Mama, the Woman, who occupies the upstairs flat of the chat induced space; the men as from cosmopolitan social structures where there is a relatively warm and easy intermingling of cultures in the old part of The Mideast. Young SOLZH speaks): Above the music of the "Mountain Flute" the voices of people around us ought to be heard by the way of overlapping or any way else. Daddy: Two men passed by the corner. They are about twenty-eight or thirty years old, roughly dressed in blue denim Kurdish paramilitary uniforms. One of them carried his hunter jacket soiled-red-stained soil-the other had no package from anywhere. The old Man: They would not stop near to the steps of our mansion...Mama (to young SOLZ on...err..say, the gallery): Hear them in there? Young SOLZH The two men on the pavement but not linked to our chat? They might stand near to Mom or you, they could neither be indoors nor out of the domain of our chat place dear Kurdish mama. (Mom leaning over her): Dear Kurdish Mama, what my sonny SOLZI said just now was all true, and you know it. But we females-either a lioness or a lady-have always loved suspecting males in our own quiet way even if we never made a show of it. The girl: I know that all daddies has always been fond of ladies in a quiet way, too. (Mama returns to the main subject): Cut short timeless romanticism. In the streets of both the East and West Europe are under the Islamic terrorists-the murder soul fans of BESIKTAS and GALATASARAY trained through mesmerism by Hyper Secret or the most hidden bloody Turkish Ayatollah GULEN-are ready to set European cities on fire: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2tLVA1p3nDw Young SOLZH: Here's the sample matching to international terror actions organized by Turkish Ayatollah-GULEN! (Shaking hands after his exclamation) The girl and SOLZH's sister: Thank you. SOLZH: I should do it. Of course, I'm under the influence my daddy and cannot be behaving too much different from his good sampling. Mama: You're eight years older than my oldest child SOLZH and always did carry a bigger load bigger than your capacity from the point of responsibilities. You never carried a wrong thing in your life. Daddy: Mama, will you let me talk, please? Mama: Yes, honey. Mom: He is my honey. Daddy: Now, I believe that he shall be a mighty big man. Madam: Almost a superman! Mom: He never would run out of this chat place or out of what we are you talking about as if humanist daddy was dead and in his grave, huh? Why, we just have to help him out with a few news details as one within the link above! Daddy: My sonny SOLZH had his law practice within the frame of human-rights at the same time in defending The Kurdish Moms whose babies has been killed by TURCO-Islamic terrorists. Kurdish Mama (To daddy and mom): Oh, dears! Let's be fair: you are lucky people (touching wood-for having got an humanist young East European fighter under the roof of your house! Why, young SOLZH has given himself body and soul to keeping this place up for the past years since Turkish Ayatollah-GULEN's mental health started falling to the muddy pool of "Children Organ Trafficking!". Young SOLZH won't say it, he never thought of it as a duty, he just did it as Pastor tried and produce rabies vaccination. And what did bloody Turkish Ayatollah do? He kept living in Pennsylvania and organizing-very secretly and through mesmerism-School Shootings in America in his past glory years at in The USA! (Mom places a restraining hand on mama's leg) Mom: We are still robust mothers as we're at twenties. seven! (Mama bursts in): You are who are you talking about it down right! A mother? She is somebody without age, full of effort. Maybe she isn't a Olympiad runner, we know it, but she runs! All mothers are non-stop runners besides being a run announcer in all ways of the life and they are the best-known ones on this lane! Mom: You are right Kurdish Mama! I'm talking about what we moms are! Kurdish mama: Well, I wish you should not stop talking about us but the husband of ours! The girl, the madam, and the sister of SOLZH: Listen, moms, we've got a right to discuss the sisters, brother with other members of my own family, which don't include only mothers! ( Young SOLZH pokes finger at them; the girl slaps his finger away.): Now, why don't we go to RAQQA and fight against TURCO-Islamic terrorists there and drink coke with Kurdish orphans whose parents have been murdered by terrorists in order to give way Turkish Ayatollah's secret terrorists to sell their kidneys? Mom: I've never seen such malice toward the mankind. The woman: How about their approach toward us? Why they can't stand to be in the same region-The Mideast with us! Doc Emmet (Getting tired of daily language based disputes cries scientifically):KURDISH LADY FIGHTERS IN SYRIA AND IRAQ SHALL CREATE THE TURNING POINT OF RAQQA WAR:From the point of being odd numbers there will be no matter in the case of self repeating wave for after one turning point-namely while repeating itself-there shall be no odd number. As for the process which gains The Kurd-K, k, KL, and km-as the starting point in the sinusoidal movements within the case of superposing waving mathematical bodies one ought to be supposed waving over the second to catch the ending point to be met by the end bodies of the waves simultaneously. If one wave over the second has got more repeating altitudes in its composition than those of the second we can observe easily the rule that ordains the first-active-one to start in every refrain before or after one step according to the initial starting point. So we know that the altitude number of superposing one are greater than that of the second its refrain steps should lose one step in every march and vice-versa! N.B. A propos "The rule of meeting ends here" could be named as The Human Factor or rather Kurdish Lady Fighters that Graham Green chose it as a title for his novel.


    SOLZHENITSOF'S ORIGINAL NOVEL
    THE MAIN TEXT
    WHY AND WHAT WILL I WRITE?

    THE TALES OF MORALITY RABBIES TOLD LITTLE SOLZHENITSOF (5)

    THE KURDISH LADY WARRIOR

    A Kurdish lady warrior sits in a chair very stiffly with her shoulders slightly heightened by her vigour and her boots pressed close together and her hands tightly clutching her rifle as if she were in one of the watching points of the garrison where well civilized Kurdish soldiers or rather Kurdish guards of liberalism in The Mideast would be mangled in the parades. After a while the indifferent look goes out of her eyes and she begins to look very attentively around. A hyena from the trenches of the Islamic terrorists screeches like a mistakenly made carnivorous of the nature. She catches her breath because of the highness of her responsibility consciousness and begins to observe the environment with a startled gesture. Suddenly she notices something in a half-opened water closet. She springs up and crosses to it, and removes a big. dark gray rat of the sewers similar to the hiding places of the IS-Islamic State militants. She slaps the twitching cheek of poor creature and tosses it down. Then she carefully replaces the fainted rat into the toilet hole and pull the siphon to washes out it alive back to the place it came. Then she resumes her seat in front of the opening designed for watch...An elder sister (on lower gallery): Sure you did the best. Even if the rats are ugly things humans priority in the presence of theirs to teach them not to go out from the sewers. Yes you slapped it, that's the truth but gave it also the chance to quit our place! The lady warrior: This sort of lectures should be carried to the field battle for deliberate campaign against that of Islamic terrorists' vilification for the most disgusting and sordid reason on earth, and I know what it is! It's avarice to be satisfied with blood, greed feeding the projects of TURCO-Islamic directed by Turkish Ayatollah-GULEN! The lady warrior: Oh, The World's Liberals will scream, we will scream in the time being unless this stops! Hey elder sister, my dear guide, come here, sit next to me. Elder sister: Precious baby. (Some other lady warriors come in): How beautiful, how touching this display of devotion! Do you know why we are all the daughters of the same family? We are sisters because that big, beautiful athlete daddies of ours won't go to bed to take a sleep unless we stop the ethnic cleansing in which TURCO Islamic terror would try to kill all friends loyal to civilisation built by Indo-Europeans, good Arabs, and innocent Jews, that's why! The scene changes and the chat place the reader had been got acquaintance with seems having incensed new flamed in the words-network! Kurdish Children: We just shan't let them do this the nice way, shall we? All right! We just didn't give a goddamned so all daddies of The EU and the USA liked us. Of course they wouldn't like us if we did anything otherwise! The Kurdish orphans: Or did or never did or would or would never, we are just appealing to a sense of common decency an' fair fight! Kurdish Mama (To the woman and mom): We're telling you the truth (crosses door to young SOLZH and doc Emmet.) I've resented the liberal world's partiality or rather the partiality of the world's liberal daddies to other ones ever since the goddamned day my children were born, son, and the way my children and I've been treated The world's liberals should like to see Islamic terror just barely good enough to spit on, and sometimes not even good enough for that. (The Kurdish Lady Warrior goes forward through her concrete place to chat place.): The liberal daddies of the liberal world are just to be born to make their influence to spread all through the Mideast! And their enemies shall not be able attacked all vital organs of the European Stock civilisation-including Paris stadium, American and Russian schools that had been shot or bombed or vice versa before! Mom: Words here and there, and explosions everywhere, venomous attacks there in Constantinople and innocent words i the USA! And yet only venomous terror In hearts and minds! That's venomous, poisons, abominable! http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016...kish-football/ Young SOLZH: Why the terrorists has chosen the weird domain-the stadium of BESIKTAS one of the rigged matches champions beside GALATASARAY and TRABZONSPOR-, huh, why? I'm asking for a square deal and by God I expect to get one. But if I don't get one, if there's any peculiar justice going on around here behind my back, well The Hague's war crime court is not a corporation institution for nothing, huh? https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/F...SC_0094.jpgThe world's liberals should know how to protect its own interests, and it should understand that tumble of distant thunders is enough to be heard obligatorily. The Kurdish Lady Warrior (entering the chat place again): Storm coming up. Young SOLZH: Oh, a late arrival! Kurdish Mama: Behold, the conquering heroines come! Daddy (following young SOLZH, reiterating his ecstasy): The fabulous SOLZI my polite sonny Would all liberals remember him? They should Who could forget him? Mom: He looks like he's been rejoiced in a game has been won! Young SOLZH: Yep, I'm afraid you'll have to warm my throne at the end of this season, my dear parents! Kurdish Children: Or was it the struggle by writing through TLN that he made his famous run in. (Another rumble of applaud, sound of happiness rising.) Kurdish Madam (To her children): See! He's pleased as Punch! Remember please, I didn't mean punch bowl, my honeys...Young SOLZH: That's right! I'm not always getting the boy's bowls mixed up! (A little girl pats SOLZH on the butt.) The old man (rushes at the little girl, striking her): Stop! (The children's laughter burst as thunder.): LO! Daddy and the old man cry the same amusement induced syllable: LO! Mom flails at the old people. Why and at what are you laughing! You see the link above cannot be being found. Turkey Soviet keeps the world's liberal intellectuals apart from the truth. Censorship that makes you to laugh! The woman and the girl: Stop every censorship where you run into, OKAY? Mom: ( To young SOLZH): Try and runs through the law when you are after the truth: Not anybody but Turkish Ayatollah GULEN should be tried in the Hague. Sure behind the BESIKTAS bombing is the bloody GULEN to be found! And terrorist PKK leader staff ought to be inserted in the second step of that awful attack! Orphans: Storm of terror has stricken there as Aleppo, or Mosul! Watch for RAQQA lest the same storm might be coming! Young SOLZH' sister and the girl (running out): Hey children, close them shutters of liberal life led by The USA and EU! Daddy (calls after a child): Of the windows of the roof, put the top up on them too, will you? Other children: Yes, sure, Mister daddy! Young SOLZH: Dear Kurdish Mama, you know it's going' to be necessary for us to get back to RAQQA in the next year to represent the Kurdish estate in a lawsuit. (Mama sits on side of a place young SOLZH stands still, arranges newspapers she is going to read breaking flashes from RAQQA.): Is it, SOLZH? Mom (speaks for his sonny): Yes! Young SOLZH: That's why I'm forced to bring up a problem that should be put off!Mom and Mama (Ask together agape) : Is it anything that's too important to be put off...err...down right? Young SOLZH: If Brick daddy and I is sober, he, alongside him, ought to be in on this. I think I ought to be present when he presents this big matter, say liberal Kurds fight against IS-Islamic Terror backed by Turkey Soviet so that its inhuman plans should fall flat. The girl and SOLZH's sister: We're present! Daddy: Well, good. I will now give you this outline my sonny, and I have drawn up-a sort of liberal mission! Kurdish Mama: Oh, that's it! You'll be in charge and carry out the a new mission, will you? Young SOLZH: This we did as soon as we got the reports reflecting the victories carried by the guards of civilisation namely The European stock pioneers-Russians and Americans- and their allies viz. Kurds over Mosul and Aleppo. We did this thing, I mean we drew up this humanist mission outline with the advice and assistance of the great people of the history like Dr. Albert Schweitzer...The great Europeans like Dr. Schweitzer handled the famous generalisation of civilisation and liberal thought based on liberal life, liberal economy etcetera! Kurdish Mama: Is Turkish Ayatollah GULEN a man of tolerance? Young SOLZH: Neither Turkish Ayatollah GULEN nor his sworn enemy namely The President/ Caliph of Turkey could be humanist or a person of tolerance! The Woman, The Girl, The Mama (Together): Why? SOLZH: Because they evaluate liberalism as the antonym of Islam. So they tend to be Islamic terrorist to ruin liberal thought! SOLZH's sister:

    Now this is not debut from the point of view but final, or anything like it, this is just a preliminary outline of the adventure of all Islamists. And it does provide a basis-a design- feasible in planning to kill the Judeo-Christians and Kurds , and even Coptic people in the Mid-East! (While they were talking about humanism came one of the most abominable bloody agent: Fourhtyoz / FOURHTYOZ namely a hyena in the apparels of a TURCO-Islamic terror symbol: A Rabid Wolf! This nasty crook is an illegal child of a TURCO-Islamic terrorist family to occupy three thread boxes to cut in on the words of dear Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF! Hyena FOURTHYOZ waves thread boxes Turkey Soviet led by-over his Mohamed induced secret-or rather well hidden-love between two males Turkish Ayatollah who had been used to point the targets to be attacked garrulously into the hand of hyenas wandering in internet.) TURCO-Islamic internet terrorist FOURHTYOZ(to be seeming as if replying by means of word diarrhoea or starting cholera like threads): Yes, I'll bet it's the best plan! TURCO-Islamic terrorist FOURHTYOZ cries: We New Ottomans oozed into the veins of Egypt to kill all the people attending the Sunday service in the Church! https://www.washingtonpost.com/world...=.b8b99064108e (The Thunder of Fury against TURCO-Islamic Terror rolls. Imaginary lighting dims in the chat medium.) The bad character of The New Ottoman-FOURHTYOZ***: Mine was a plan to destruct the biggest goodness or rather love instructed by The Jesus Christ! Mom: Now you listen to me, all of you Turkish Ayatollah GULEN's culprits, you listen here! The New Ottomans couldn't be going to be the source of no more bloody deeds in The Liberal Globalism! Kurdish Mama: If there is something as globalism it must say to the Turkey Soviet's Armed Gangs that they should put their guns with which they used to kill Kurdish babies away before the World's Liberals grab it out of their hand and tear them right up as cartoon toys! Mom: I don't know what the hell's in the term of globalism which could include The East Europe but couldn't touch those state like organisation of charlatans namely the new Ottomans, and even I don't want to know what meaning is hidden in it. Daddy: I'm talking in my own language now, I'm your husband, not your widow, I'm still your husband or rather the role model of our family! And I'm talking to you in my language: Globalism is a role model for humans not for hyenas viz. Islamic Terrorists backed by Turkey Soviet wherein Turkish Ayatollah had been trained to beguile The USA, to move to Pennsylvania and to catch the chance to abide there forever, and to mesmerize the American youngsters to shoot The USA schools!

    *** Fourhtyoz
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    ANNEX PROPER-1:
    THE FIGHT OF TLN ( The Literature Network)
    Big Chevalier:
    Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF
    The Coward Enemies of Judeo-Christian/Semitic and Indo-European Liberal World:
    stacy55 Registered User Join Date 08-02-2016 // Markj Registered User Join Date 12-07-2016 // Pompey Bum The Gnu Normal Join Date 10-17-2014
    MaryLee Registered User Join Date 10-10-2016 // karjaneth Registered User Join Date 08-21-2016
    (TRY AND LEARN ABOUT TURKEY SOVIET THROUGH ANNEX PROPER-2 BELOW)
    What they have here is to give a lion-heart fight peculiar to Prof. MES and fighting over cowardice based of the Turkey Soviet namely the sworn enemy of Liberal People from Americans and Russians to Kurds!Daddy: Why did you poke your nose in the threads that could influence the flow of SOLZHENITSOF's novel giving a holy fight against TURCO-Islamic terror? STACY55: One could have explained that it's just a plan of Turkey Soviet having been similar to the chameleon designed with green-Muslim-and red-aggressive/Soviet like-colours.... Kurdish Mama: I don't care what you got here and there, just pull your dubious hands back, and don't touch your clavier to write down turbidity induced replies where they come from IS-Islamic State terror and don't let us see them again, not even the outside of the threads of TLN! KARJANETH: Is not that is our aim understood basically? Mom and Mama (Together) Basis! Plan! Design! And what Goddamned else? MARKY:I say what is it that! Daddy: Shut up? I always say when you do it SOLZHENITSOF's disgusted, huh? (American and Russian jetfighters' storm clouds race across the sky over the secret Islamic Terror Boss namely Turkish Ayatollah GULEN's mosque of Mohamed. The Woman and the old man from a place like bar: Daddy says 'the nose mucous induced Turkey Soviet using both TURCO Islam and aggressive atheism against the civilisation ' when he is disgusted. Hey STACY55, MARKJ, KARJANETH alongside FOURHTYOZ: don't you hear the very term-nose mucous! Mom (rising]: That's right the secretion of a sick nose! I say ill nose mucous too, as daddy does! (Thunder of brave Russian and lion heart American Jet fighter rolls in the seventh heaven upon the hell of Islamic terrorists) The girl and the sister of young SOLZH: Bravo mom and daddy! Coarse language do seem called for in this case of Aleppo! Young SOLZH: Something in me is deeply outraged by this truthful approach of yours. MARRYLEE: Hey Kurdish mama, mom and daddy! Do you surmise that nobody's going to do nothing! Children: Till humanist daddy lets go of it, and maybe just possibly not--not even then! No, not even then! (Thunder like applause , capable to make glass to be crashed, to make children to commence crying. Many sounds of ecstasy, happiness, cries from the animals in barnyard terror! Toys of orphans crackling, shutters rattling. MARYLEE: Hurry from The Literature Network-TLN. FOURHTYOZ: Inexplicably hits with his wry fists both lines in the threads and boxes he tried to occupied already. STACY55 cries, 'Storm of SOLZH!' Young SOLZH waves a piece of replies to cover the medium again, yes, the medium adjusted to the fight against Islamic terror. Kurdish Mama exits to a place similar to a hall. The old man runs across the trace of hers. (Thunder like applause rolls repeatedly.) Mom: SOLZH, hurry up and get that spaces of this good space of TLN covered; want the truth to come off?
    ANNEX PROPER-2 THE MAIN DISSERTATION ON THE “THIRD MILLENNIUM RENAISANCE” OR LEARNING THE GRAND MOTHER OF ALL EVILS ON THE EARTH (The Second Soviet-Turkey VULTURE)A study scrutinizing “Anti-Democracy Enmity Induced Secret State Terror”: the restless psychological war maneuvers in Turkey and abroad within all the posts of both civil-military bureaucracy, so called fake independent media, university, judiciary, political, NGO systems including those of students, and sportive-artistic recreations all in one purpose for reigning the world through terror, horror, blood, tears, threat, instigation, provocations etc. BY ASSOC. PROF. DR. MUSTAFA ERDOGAN SURAT-SOLZHENITSOF PROF. MES. HONORARY PRINCE OF DERBENT, HIS EXCELLENCY COLUMNIST: ISLAMIC VAKİT AND HEBREW SHALOM GAZETTES SCHOLAR: medical SCIENCENCES: FAMILY HEALTH/CHRONIC CASES ARTIST: VIRTUOUS KANOON PLAYER-SEMITIC HYMNSThis dissertation is completed over eleven full years in the following sections which are: CLASSICAL KEY WORDS; SUMMARY that introduces a substantive conception of knowledge as some psycho-sociological analyses in the models of the BASICS OF SYSTEMATICALLY TERRORIST STATE-THE SECOND SOVIET I.E TURKEY VULTURE: The FUNCTIONAL ASPECT of the knowledge model is derived in this section from the Soviet type ideology-KEMALISM’s worldview of threatening skill (bloodshed) in the way that this EVIL DEED applies to practical problems in declared war on minorities (Greeks, Jews, Armenians), and undeclared war on the Eastern and Western European Civilizations.The examples exhibited here are presented in PRAXIS OF THE SECOND SOVIET in terms of the theory, and of the chronicles-archives-most relevant documents of actual sociology and history.In the Section “TRICKS”, you will be able to apply this Soviet type KEMALIST TRICK-induced dynamic model of your own of KEMALIST friends’ beguiling you, and your beloved country! Sections FIN and EPILOGUE will be the conclusion on the substantive nature of the perspective of NEW POLICY NEEDS towards the changing horizons after the cold war in contrast to the betrayal of Turkey Vulture in its relationship with the USA and its loyal allies: Good Arabs, Innocent Jews, and civilization pioneers-The East and West Europe People! KEY WORDS AFFILIATED TO THE KEY PICTURE-DOC. BELOW:THE YURTSEVER GAZETTE (SOL) WHICH DECLARES TO BE GIVING (SO CALLED) ANTI-IMPERIALIST WAR ON THE USA! IT IS PRINTED 5000 IN NUMBERS FOR SUBSCRIBED READERS AND 50000 FOR ANTI-WEST TERROR-HORROR INDUCED MEETINGS IN ANKARA AND ISTANBUL! THE OWNER: THE SECRET ISLAMİC TERROR BOSS FETHULLAH GULEN // GREAT MAJORITY OF ITS SUBSCRIBED READERS THE 85% ALEVISTHE 10% RED JUNTA MEMBERS IN THE ARMY THE 2% ARMENIAN AND GREEK COMMUNISTS LIKE R. MARGULİES THE 1% JEWS: Two professors, some merchants and artisans living in Istanbul, one big businessman, at least 20 young people from the universities in Istanbul, Ankara, Izmir! THE1% (SUNNI) TURKS (İHSAN DOĞRAMACI, MEHMET EMİN KARAMEHMET, FATİH ALTAYLI,HİLMİ YAVUZ, FEHMI KORU, HAKAN ALBAYRAK, ALİ BULAÇ,HAYDAR BAŞ, VAHİT ERDEM –AKP-İBRAHİM KARAGÜL, ALPER TAN, HASAN KARAKAYA ET AL)THE 0.5 KURDS (KAMURAN İNAN, MEHMET AYDIN-MINISTER)THE 0.5 SUNNI ARABS (SOME ASSYRIANS)THE CAPITAL OF THE PRO-TERROR AND ANTI-DEMOCRACY GAZETTE-YURTSEVER (PATRIOT) IS PROVIDED BY:1-RED JUNTA IN TURKISH ARMY: 30%2-R. KOÇ’S FAMOUS FOUNDATION-DIRECTED BY GÜLSEVEN YAŞER):20%3-TUSIAD-DIRECTED BY AYDIN DOĞAN’S DAUGHTER- MEMBERS, NAMELY SOME OF THEM, AND THEIR FOUNDATIONS: 15%4-PKK PLUS TURKISH AYATOLLAH GULEN'S GANG AND OTHER SEMI OFFICAL DRUG SMUGLERS LIKE TURKISH RACIST PARTIES, TV-STATIONS AND THE LIKE: 15% 5-THE FOUNDATION OF HIGH COURT JUDGES’ FOUNDATION-THE CHAIRMAN OF YARSAV: 5% 6-CHP: 5%SUMMARY: Expressions above give a strong necessity in centralization: THE TRIUMVIRA OF BIG BOSS-KOÇ, THE GREEN KEMALST FETHULLAH GULEN, AND THE RED KEMALIST OF WHICH NEST IS THE RED JUNTA IN ARMY IN THE PAST. It establishes a Soviet type socio-economical meaning that represents the completion of all knowledge-flows about KEMALISM and its bestowing in terms of the perfection of the Turkey Vulture backed international terror and drug smuggling induced entities appears in the IDEOLOGY. Hence, the IDEOLOGY is equivalent to Anti-West, Anti-Democracy in terms of the super cardinal measure of these equivalent topologies. Yet the subtle difference is that though KEMALISM can never be configured in the primordial sense and in the final event of the IDEOLOGY, yet the rewards of the fullness of the complete order of knowledge optimizes the rewards and the punishments to their fullest in heaven namely borrowing dollars from the USA, getting them down to the stomach of Red Generals and their Greatest Presidium-TUSIAD, swearing, betraying the same America, and offering hell-terror organized against American Marines, in Iraq and in Afghanistan, respectively. Thus, heaven and hell are realities of the knowledge-induced fullness and the de-knowledge-induced fullness in the respective super cardinal topological spaces of your KEMALIST-Fake Secular, Aggressive atheist friends that have exploited the West especially through NATO in fiscal affairs and in moral values. We have thus established the following process by which the Satanic Second Soviet universe (Turkey Vulture) teaches: “Weapons from the T of NATO in the primal to T worshipping to Ts i.e. the T of Ataturk, T of Terror, and T over BE (T) RAYAL to the West in the Hereafter through the process of smuggling those weapons to both Islamic and Red-Atheist TERROR!

    Turkey Soviet's new hyenas namely the members of Turkish Ayatollah's Gang howl! Young SOLZH's Mom, Kurdish Mama and her children (yells to the woman, who appears): Madam put these Turkey Soviet Documents away! The Woman: Can't, ladies and gentlemen, you got the keys of drawers! Young SOLZH's Daddy (To the woman): Now, you got them, madam. (Young SOLZH) calls to his sister and the girl) Help us to find out where the keys to the cupboards, drawers are sweeties, will you? Mom (To SOLZH's daddy): You got them in your pocket! Turkey Soviet's new hyenas-the people serving to the bloody Turkish Ayatollah F. GULEN howl. The sister and the girl sing to comfort Kurdish Children and orphans. Mama is heard placating the children. (The storm of applause climbs to a climax first and then fades away. During the storm, Kurdish Mama sitting on a couch.) Mom: By dear sonny SOLZH! Come here, sonny, I need you. Chat place commotion avails slightly. Kurdish children whimper. Mama consoles them. SOLXZH crosses to right of mom): This time SOLZH looks like he used to look when he was attending the miniature activities in the kindergarten just like he did especially when he played wild games in the orchard back of the building and used to come home...The little boy would seem astonished when I hollered myself hoarse for him! Ah the little bys...all sweaty...and pink-cheeked...and excited with his dark curls shining...( Applause thunder sounds distantly. Children whimper the place of chat or rather offstage. Kurdish Mama consoles them. TURCO-Islamic terror hyenas howl.) After the news-informing the civilisation that Muslin butchers used chemical weapons in Syria-came time goes by so fast. http://www.euronews.com/2016/11/11/r...-syrian-rebels Nothing can outrun it. Islamic Terror in the world created for the peace of the mankind commences too early-almost before we Indo Europeans plus African, good Arabs and innocent Jews are acquainted with peace-we meet with it. Kurdish Mama: Hey humans, you know we just got to love each other, and stay together all of us just as close as we can, especially now that such a black thing has come and moved into the Mid East without invitation. Mom-Oh, SOLZH, son of the humanist daddy who does so love you. You know what would be his fondest dream come true? If before we-your parents-passed on as all ancestors of ours had to pass on.... You give peaceful fruits namely your big writings as a child of yours similar to a grandson as much like his son as his son is like we, huh? Kurdish Mama: I know that's The Mankind's dream. Mom: That's his dream. Daddy (off chat site, and his whisper was being carried by the wind): Looks like the wind was taking liberties with this site. (Daddy appears in common area again; some orphans at large appear beside him): The old man and daddy (absurdly): Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Kurdish children and orphans: Good afternoon captains! Mama: Daddy's in the site. Daddy: The storm of your applause crossed the river, lady mama? Mama: Gone to Aleppo, Captain. (Mom has turned toward somewhere like a hall door at the sound of daddy's voice nearby. Now she crosses to the same point on to the place in the case.): Mom: I'd like to stay here forever for he should see something in my eyes. Daddy (On, again somewhere looking like an upper gallery, to the Kurdish children and orphans): Your storm of applause has done any damage around here? The girl and the sister of SOLZH: Took the balcony off the Romeo's sweetheart, say, old Juliette's house. The woman, mom and mama: Ole Juliette's balcony should of been setting on it. It's time for the wind to blow those ole girls of love history away! (The orphans laugh, exit. The old man and daddy enters the chat place) Can I come in? They puts their cigars in ash tray on a mantelpiece installed illogically in the space. Mama and Mom hurry along somewhere like an upper gallery and stand behind the old man and daddy somehow in anywhere... Kurdish Mama (To daddy): Did the storm wake you up, daddy? Daddy: Which storm of applause are you talking me about the one on one side namely the Kurdish heroes or the hullaballoo in TURCO-Islamic terror side there? http://thewire.in/81705/turkish-back...ity-of-al-bab/ (Mom squeezes past daddy.) Young SOLZH crosses toward daddy's side, where newspapers are strewn): Excuse me, sir... (Mom tries to squeeze past daddy to join SOLZH , but daddy puts his arm firmly around her.) Daddy: I heard some mighty loud talk. Sounded like something important was being discussed. What was the powwow about? Mom(flustered): Why, nothing, honey... Daddy: What is that pregnant-looking package of newspapers scattered around? Mom (At foot of somewhere looking like an armchair caught, as she stuffs newspapers into a huge envelope): That? Nothing... So that I dare say nothing much of anything at all... Children: Nothing? Nothing while TURCO Islamic police officer assassinates "The Russian Ambassador To Ankara"? It looks like a whole lot of nothing! See please: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016...andrey-karlov/ (They turns to the group): Hey! Let's make The World to awake: Turkey kills The Russian Ambassador officially! http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016...tion-attempt1/ Young SOLZH: We all know the story about the TURCO Islamic terror: https://www.washingtonpost.com/world...=.09b810dc4df3 Daddy: Do everybody understand my sonny? Children: Yes, sir! The Kurdish Mama and Mom: Hello, SOLZH... Young SOLZH: Hello or rather Alas! The old Man and Daddy: Why do you speak so? (The group is arranged in a semi-circle around young SOLZH): TURCO Islamic terror open war against the Christianity. They attacked-lorry ploughed the people leaving some dozens of dead and blessed there-German Xmas market! TURCO Islamic Terrorists did the same thing for several and several times in The Europe! [url https://www.thereligionofpeace.com/attacks/europe-attacks.aspx[/url] Young SOLZH: We must put the Islamic Terrorists in cages to be inspected as all the wildest creatures of God's... (Children and Kurdish Orphans asks): With satisfaction. Young SOLZH: YEP! Daddy: Yesterday afternoon was too cold a afternoon for early winter, and yet after the official assassination of alternately Maoist/KEMALIST and TURCO Islamic State namely Turkey Soviet in the evening behaved as The Ottoman Empire did pugnaciously in the history and have got the ambassador of its new ally-Russia assassinated by TURCO Islamic police officer! Kurdish Mama-If you know this story, you can understand how Turkey Soviet/Turkey Vulture used to eat the lungs of Kurdish babies dressed with Mustard Gas, huh? The girl and the sister of SOLZH: But why they shot The American Embassy simultaneously? http://www.euronews.com/2016/12/20/t...uspect-embassy Young SOLZH: Because neither the red wing murderers of Turkey Soviet nor green assassins of it like Christians. Remember: Both Americans and Russians are Christians! Why TURCO Islamic state terrorists don't like Kurdish People too? Kurdish Mama: Don't forget that the Kurdish people is the real ally of all Judeo-Christians!(Young SOLZH nods): Yes madam, yes Kurdish Milady, I do know it. And I know more. The terrorist who ploughed the Christian culture base folk is a Muslim of Turkic stock! http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/world-n...pdates-9486959 Daddy: Why do the TURCO Islamic terror bosses willed to be assumed the source of all evils threatening The World as a whole) You see, they -seemingly-would like to live in the cage adjoining to the hyenas although their ancestors were Gray Wolves! Kurdish Mama (at daddy's shoulder): Oh, great dad! Daddy: What's the matter, The Russian's gone, AIN'T he? All right. That TURCO-Islamic terrorist policeman could be put in a cage, and might have been under cross question! Facing each murder made by Turkey-Soviet one might see the same dubious situation in per-meeting or rather the atmosphere about TURCO-Islamic terror with a powerful and exciting odour of TURCO-Muslim belly dance celebrity namely secret Islamic terror boss viz. Turkish Ayatollah FETHULLAH GULEN! Huh? AIN'T that a nice way useful in understanding ISLAMIC TERROR, FETHULLAH GULEN, TURKET SOVIET, eh? Young SOLZH: Yes, sir, nothing wrong with it. Daddy: SOLZH says there is nothing wrong with it! Mom: Oh, daddy! The girl and the sister of SOLZH: So this old vulture still had a couple of fornication utensils left in it. Fornication? YEP! Turkish Ayatollah GULEN, and the Caliph/President of Turkey namely the sworn enemies of Judeo Christians and Kurds or dirty green wolves' gang-similar to the black and red wolves reared back its old bloody system with a whiff, and yet after the fall of Aleppo began to paw at the dirt in its cage an' butt its brainless head against the separating partition between the wilderness of Islamic terror and civilisation, and first thing you know, there was a conspicuous change in its profile! You know, very conspicuous! AIN'T I telling this story in decent language, my dear sonny? Young SOLZH: Yes, sir, clear, lucid, and decent! Mom and Kurdish Mama: So, young SOLZH boy pointed at it and said, 'This is it what's this?' Kurdish Mama: Oh, that's everything to understand that the Russian Ambassador killed by the murderer trained-through mesmerism rendered by that secret boss of Islamic Terror namely Turkish Ayatollah GULEN abiding in Pennsylvania! Daddy: I'm his papa and used to say the same thing said, 'Turkey Soviet-Turkey Vulture's spoiled from the very beginning of the era Turkish red-Maoist/KEMALIST, and green-Islamic terrorist began to beguile L'OTAN/NATO!'(Kurdish children and orphans whose parents had been killed by Turkish Army sing off. Young SOLZH's daddy crosses to the girl and SOLZH's sister.): You didn't laugh at that story, girls. (Big Kurdish Mama begins crying. The girls go to her.) SOLZH: No, sir, they didn't laugh at that story. ( The Kurdish Mama sobs. Daddy looks toward her.): What's wrong with that long, thin woman over there, loaded with aches and sufferings? Hey, what's-your-name Kurdish Mama, what's the matter with you? (Mom and Mama toward young SOLZH's daddy): The female used to have a slight dizzy at times... Children: You better watch that, mama. And let mom be doing so. Dizziness is a bad comrade on any way to go. Kurdish Mama: Oh, my witty children, mom has got her best birthday present presented to her over you wittiness... SOLZH, do you see that your mom has on their advice as cashmere robe, the softest and the most reasonable advice one could have ever heard: ' Dizziness is not a good comrade on a bad way one should go. Mom: Yeah, this is my soft birthday, Kurdish children. Kurdish Mama: My children's present not gold nor silver birthday, but wittiness induced and soft, everything's got to be soft and wise for mom on her birthday. (Kurdish children kneel before mama and mom as Kurdish orphans speak, and mama hush them with a gesture.): Our parents, we hate to make such a crude observation, but there is something a little indecent about Turkey Soviet's attitude in the case of Russian Ambassador's murder! Mom: You are not to enjoy- of course-a slow-motion comedy... (The Woman to Mama and Mom): Who has invented this pseudo birth day? Has daddy or mom got on Turkey slippers as the present of birthday, and who and why gave them such dubious and suspicion induced things as Turkish slippers, SOLZH? Daddy: Because none could dare to talk the truth, they haven't given anybody their real present yet, but now I will, now's the time for me to present it to you! I have an announcement to make! Listen to me: Turkey Soviet State or rather the caliph/president of it has killed the Russian Ambassador? http://www.businessinsider.com/r-kre...illing-2016-12 The woman: What? What kind of announcement it is... A plank? Young SOLZH: A politics announcement, dear woman? Kurdish Mama: Announcement of life beginning or rather to be being in The Mid East! The truth is coming to Putin's Russia after Trump's America! YEP! Turkey Soviet State or rather the caliph/president of it has killed the Russian Ambassador! The truth shall be sired by liberal intellectuals who will be reiterating the same judgement of The Zeitgeist. The one and only enemy of The Europe-including Russia and America is the Islamic Terror! The woman (toward Kurdish mama and mom): I have learned young SOLZH's big lecture Brick's: Islam is the contemporary plague of the modern times threatening every child, every parent, everybody, an' that'll be no birthday present if the ugly TURCO Islamic shall not give the greetings of The Jesus Christ's birthday! (Daddy and the old man look at SOLZH) The old man: Get up, boy, try hard and understand why TURCO Islamic wing of the Turkey Soviet committed with this crime! Don't sit down till you explain your findings in this case that has ended with the martyrdom of The Russian Ambassador to Turkey's capital city. So you ought to get up off your knees, boy. (Daddy and the old man force young SOLZH to seem more erect than he is actually... He rises. He bites off of both his finger nails and his lips the as he studies some papers.) He mumbles: Uh-huh, this document show that there are lot of lies in the explanations of The Caliph/President of Turkey! (Kurdish mama and mom, simultaneously): Boo! Daddy: The Jesus Christ! The old man: SOLZH, I want you to be a lawyer in the future! SOLZH: What, really, are you imagining me to do as a lawyer? Daddy: A lawyer defending the rights of humans killed by the murderers of Turkey Soviet? The old man: Sonny, You should be going up on the roof of The United Nations to the belvedere on the roof to look over the kingdom of The Jesus Christ before I give up my last breath! Remember, the kingdom of the Jesus Christ is the eternal peace! (Kurdish Children and orphans exit-running madly-through imaginary doors, to a non-existed gallery. (Kurdish mama (following]: Sweethearts, my sweethearts, can I come with you? (Exits.) Young SOLZH: I know they are afraid of Turkey Vulture's thirsty of blood. TURCO Islamic terrorists killed-after murdering the good Russian Ambassador in Ankara-yes, killed several civilians in Al BAB! https://sputniknews.com/middleeast/2...al-bab-turkey/ The woman (toward mama and mom)could you possibly spare me one small shot of a tranquilising liquor? The girl and SOLZH's sister: Why, help yourself, madam. The woman: I will. Mama: Of course we know that this is not a lie of the greatest liar-Turkish Ayatollah GULEN who says the truth in this case: The Caliph namely the President of Turkey ordered both murders! (The woman drinks): Be still, everybody! Kurdish Mama: I won't be still! I know he's made not this up! (Kurdish children entering into the chat place): God damn it, one should have said The Caliph/President of Turkey to shut up for the Turkey's Caliph/President was threatening to give a good teach to the Eastern and Western Europeans, Kurds, and Americans over Islamic Terror hiding behind the counter terror attack from the very beginning of his caliphate! The woman (Toward mom and mama): That caliph or the sultan of Turkey or rather the New Ottoman is pregnant, and is about give a birth of new Islamic terror wave like murdering Russian Ambassador and killing civilians in Syria without waiting the funeral in Moscow to end! Kurdish Children: Who could say that he was not an TURCO-Islamic terrorist? (Mom and mama together): We could! Kurdish orphans: How could you do it? Young SOLZH: Because Turkish Ayatollah is the father of that idea: reconstruction of The New Ottoman so that The caliph/president could be only a mother oppressed to give the birth to that God damned ideology? Doc Emmett: I did know many females that have become mother on the contrary to their will not willing to be pregnant! Young SOLZH: Doc be careful that the caliph is a man not any poor woman to be raped! Doc Emmett: His genital peculiarities might make his gender something but a man. Kurdish Mama: I cannot say okay to Doc... (The Woman, mama, and mom in their chat choir): Then who'd tell us something about his gender, people? (Doc Emmett laughs...Offstage TURCO Islamic marches finish.) Young SOLZH: One of the best gynaecologists in Pennsylvania who knows Turkish Ayatollah GULEN's situation very well. Why this gynaecologist might not have had some remote findings about the Turkey's caliph/president then? Doc Emmett: Uh-huh, I see...err... may anybody say his name please? Kurdish mama: No, they may not, the folk of chat! Mom: None does have any name, the specialist who can be having observed the genital organs of Turkish Ayatollah GULEN or Turkey's Caliph/President can't exist! Kurdish mama: The specialist does so exist, and so does the TURCO-Islamic murderers be to carry on with killing Kurdish babies! Kurdish children: Neither Turkish Ayatollah GULEN nor the Caliph/President of Turkey can conceive a child by a man... They won't taste the miraculous thing viz. being a mother, and because of this bare reason they may kill all Kurdish babies! (They forces Turkey Soviet on to couch. None starts for it...Kurdish children go on): They would like to drink Kurdish babies' blood all the time to be able to reign the Islamic green wing of Turkey Soviet as Turkish Maoist/KEMALIST red generals did in the past! We-the children of the liberal world ought to keep out of contact with all these bloody beasts! Mom (to the children): Do try to kid them! Young SOLZH: How can the asexual Ayatollah GULEN who try and hide his sexual preference conceive a child by a man? How can the Caliph/President who is a misogynist male be pregnant while his Islamic Terrorists could kill pregnant women? (Mama very sharply): Ha-ha! Young SOLZH's sister: Mom, Big Woman, how do you know to instruct the best lesson in sexuality which might make not to sleep with serenity? Mom: Turkey Soviet's green-Islamic terror and red aggressive atheist like Maoism/KEMALISM both occupy the strategic cities of the two super powers: America and Russia so that Americans' friend Turkish Ayatollah GULEN could organize school shootings in the USA and The Russia's new ally namelyTurkey's president/caliph has got the invisible power of having Russian ambassador slain by Turkish police and the Russian aircraft crashed into the Black sea! https://www.theguardian.com/world/20...rd-report-says Remember: the wall between the American Administration and Turkish Ayatollah GULEN and the curtain between Russia and Turkish Caliph/President isn't soundproof. Young SOLZH: Oh... Kurdish mama: We hear the nightly planning and the nightly or broad daylight induced attacks of Turkey Soviet. So TURCO-Islamic or pseudo secular terror do imagine both Americans and Russians are to be going into the quagmire of their Turkish friends and to be put several tricks over on them, to be fooled like a dying bear or elephant with the impudent lies of Turkey as a whole!


    TO BE CONTINUED...࡚
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 12-25-2016 at 04:08 PM.

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    SOLZHENITSOF'S ORIGINAL NOVEL
    THE MAIN TEXT
    WHY AND WHAT WILL I WRITE?

    THE TALES OF MORALITY RABBIES TOLD LITTLE SOLZHENITSOF (4)

    THE REMINDER (From the very beginning of the previous page) / AL BAB


    (The girl and the sister of SOLZHBRICK): Here you are the chief of the official terror organisation of Turkey's President/Caliph! https://www.google.com.tr/search?q=s...kjeNVNfiaXM%3A (Mom and Mama cries): And this one is the chief consultant of Turkish Ayatollah GULEN in America School Shootings! https://www.google.com.tr/search?q=a...ET1f2b_dXQM%3A Young SOLZH: Hey good people: Let everybody make much noise about those pillars of the Islamic Terror. Daddy: Oh, I know some people are HUFFER PUFFER, but others are apt to be silent always. Mom: This talk is pointless, completely. Young SOLZH (As if sitting with mom on a couch like place): The world knows what is their level? (Bursts a laughter) Tell me their level so I can sink or rise to it. (Rises.) You heard what daddy said. We should not garrulous in helping Kurdish babies but industrious! The bloody Caliph/President of Turkey Soviet and Turkish Ayatollah could kill babies but never the firs nor the latter could have life in their body for their gender nothing to be defined with the very words of male, female or transsexual. Mama: That is the unique truth about Turkish Ayatollah GULEN and Turkey's caliph/president! Young SOLZH: No, truth is something desperate, and they have got it. Believe me, it's something desperate, and they have got it. (The girl and the sister of SOLZH): And now you need not must stop acting as if those bloody Islamic terrorists were dead and buried on the contrary you ought to go on back to your peep-hole in the lines of your novel they are drunk, and sleepy under the influence of their terror based religious dogmas and not as alive as Putin or Trump they are fancying to swindle...(In internet medium, say you-tube Turkey's president/caliph and Turkish Ayatollah GULEN would pour drink or rather Islamic terror juice, and drink before speaking: Ayatollah: What must we know about the radical TURCO Islamic murderer of the Russian ambassador? As everybody should know he is a Turkish police officer. And yet the most awful truth is that the murderer gave service to Turkey's charlatan president/false caliph as a bodyguard! And the charlatan speaks: Instead of the bad tricks-deciphered by The EU easily-of TURCO Islamic terror and horror we carry on with deceiving the idiot Russians and occupying Syrian soils in Al BAB! Young SOLZH (picks up brief case from foot of a place similar to a bed): Come on, people we'll leave those love birds-the TURCO Islamist killer and The Russian together in their way to the doomsday of liberal way of life! (Mom and mama together): Yeah, nest of bizarre allies! One of them the greatest liar or rather the caliph and the other pitiful Putin! Kurdish children and orphans: Mama...Mama, you just go towards the other facts concerning the future of new generations to our future! Mama: You are right my lambs, and yet this situation in Al BAB cannot give chance to truthful folks but the liars as Turkish Ayatollah GULEN and Turkey's caliph/president! (Mom and mama exit through somewhere as a hall of the chat-room.) Young SOLZH (Above mom and mama): We're just going to wait and see. Time will tell. Yes, dear ladies, my mom and the mama of little Kurdish children, we're just going to wait and see! (Young SOLZH exits to the hall like place. The clock strikes what is what apt to be struck while making chat, huh? The girl and SOLZH's sister exchange a look. They drinks coke deeply, put the glasses on where is not a place thereon nothing could be put. Gradually, their expression changes. They utter a sharp exhalation. The exhalation is echoed by the children and Kurdish orphans whose parents were killed by TURCO Islamic terrorists... Daddy and the old man (as they hear their exhalation): The excessive energy? (The woman, mom, and mama looks toward children, unhappily, almost gratefully, briefly having been drown in confused thoughts. They cry together): The big gang state namely Turkey Soviet/Its Islamic and Maoist killers killed civilians in Al BAB! http://rudaw.net/english/middleeast/syria/231220162 (The girl and SOLZH's sister cross to somewhere similar to a corner and cry together too): The IS-Islamic State/Its Islamic terrorists killed civilians too! http://www.euronews.com/2016/12/26/s...b-turkish-army The population within the place of chattering cries altogether! (Kurdish Mama) seizes something like a pillow from one's grasp, holding it close. Everybody watch her with growing admiration. She moves quickly throwing that pillow like thing on to somewhere similar to a bed. She crosses to TV set. She grabs all the cables going into and coming from it as tying a centre of evil to an action apparatus. She pitches the parts, one after the other, off the platform into the lawn. Freak ones break. Mama comes back the main place, stands facing people): Energy has gone dry, and no one but me could drive you to a mall for more.) The old man and daddy: A good driver will get us...Children and Kurdish orphans: All good drivers had been told not to! Everybody cry: Who could drive... Mama and mom: And probably every ones lost every ones' driver's license! The old man and daddy: One would phone ahead and have one stopped on the highway before one got halfway to ones' destination. One told a lie to everybody, but one can make that lie come true. And then one will bring oneself what has been aimed, and one will get satisfied together, here and there day and night, therein that what one has come into one's hand! What do one say mom? What do one say, daddy? Children: We admire you, SOLZH. (Young SOLZH sits on edge of something similar to a bed. He looks up at the overhead light, then at daddy. He reaches for the light, turns it out; then he kneels quickly beside his own shadow at foot of that bed like place.) All people in the chat place: O, you warring Kurds namely the heroes and heroines of the liberal world ready to give the most victorious fight against Islamic Terror backed by TURCO Islamic Terror State viz. Turkey Soviet or rather Turkey Vulture! You Kurdish babies killed by TURCO Islamic terrorists in and around Al BAB! Oh, the beautiful Kurdish People who give up with such grace. What you need is The Liberal World to take hold of your babies gently, with love, and hand their life back to them, like something gold you let go of...And we the intellectuals of the world can do it! We liberal World determined to do it, and nothing's more determined than a friend of Kurdish people in the front, is there? Is there, real secular Kurdish lady warriors? Remember! All liberal, humanist, honest Russians and Americans would like to touch your cheek gently.

    SOLZHENITSOF'S ORIGINAL NOVEL
    THE MAIN TEXT
    WHY AND WHAT WILL I WRITE?

    THE TALES OF MORALITY RABBIES TOLD LITTLE SOLZHENITSOF (5)

    SHORT BIO OF AN ORDINARY KURDISH LADY WARRIOR

    She was born in just now or before 10.000 years or rather before Christopher Columbus had explored America where her akin folk sharing the same European ancestors having speak an Indo-European language settled down. Her father was the Muslim cleric of the village where she was born. When his father after retired has begun to work as a travelling salesman, moved with his family to Aleppo and some years later, both she and her sister found it impossible to settle down to city life. She entered college before Islamic Terrorists backed by both the Turkish Ayatollah GULEN and Turkey's caliph/president-occupation and left after a couple of years to take an anti Islamic terror guerrilla job in a brigade trained by liberal Europeans and Americans. She stayed there for two years, spending even the evenings fighting against IS-Islamic State. Then she entered the University on air of The X...Republic in 2014 and completed her two year licence course, at the same time holding a large number of part-time jobs of great diversity as teaching alphabet both to Turkish and Kurdish settlers who had emigrated there after the World War I. She could have received at least a single fellowship if she had lived in Pennsylvania as Turkish Ayatollah and secret Islamic terrorist GULEN for her role she used to play as a natural humanist, and she could have won a prize dedicated to the people like Nobel winners. Among her many other humanist activities she have fed-not over breast feeding of course-many Kurdish orphans whose parents had been killed by TURCO Islamic brigades similar to that occupied Al BAB! SOLZH as an adult writer has written of The Kurdish Lady Warrior: "She was a born humanist as few are ever born. Whatever she would do in the battle-field, superb and too much glorious so that she could not fail to be electrifyingly fight against IS-Islamic State terrorists. She could not escort any comrade of hers wounded in the front in a dull scene... That Kurdish lady warrior will live as long as humanist defending symbol against the horror of Islamic Terror itself." Of course it is a pity that so much of all heroic deeds is so closely related to the personality of the one-not of all the world's liberals who owe the light behind the fear tunnel of TURCO Islamic terrorists-who does it. It is sad and embarrassing and unattractive that those emotions that stir her deeply enough to demand at least a medal, and to appreciate their expression with some measure of war art light and science, are nearly all rooted, however changed in their surface, in the particular and sometimes peculiar concerns of the Kurdish lady warrior herself, that special world, the courage and bravura of it that each of all the Kurds weaves about her from birth to death, a web of monstrous humanist efforts, spun forth at a speed that is incalculable to a length beyond measure, from the spider mouth of the Kurdish lady warrior's own super perceptions. It cannot be assigned to a lonely idea, a lonely condition, so there could be no terrifying behaviour to think of that we usually don't. And so-here-the writer and his readers talk to each other, write and read to satisfy each other! She and her secular Kurdish colleagues-males or females-used to call each other short and long distance betwixt the mountains, over their skirts or upon their peaks, shake hands with each other-on the contrary of the servants of Turkish Ayatollah GULEN, and the spouse and daughters of the Turkish caliph who had banned shaking hands in the relationship between the male and the female-at meeting and at parting, fight each other on the rings of boxing wherein even destroy each other because of this always somewhat harsh sportive effort to break through walls to each other. As the real secular Kurdish character-not pseudo in the case of Turkish secular people who during the 27th May 1960 Maoist/KEMALIST revolution once said, 'We're all of us sentenced to the worship the revolutionist leaders instead of The God, and in our solitary confinement inside our own borders we should hate the liberalism led by The USA.' While both TURCO Islamic terrorist, and TURCO Maoist/pseudo secular dirty green and bloody red gunmen carry on with hating Americans the Kurdish people would insist to like them. She knows that while the well civilized countries send Christmas Greetings to the world The New Ottomans-trained by Turkish Ayatollah GULEN and directed by the caliph/president of Turkey is burning the symbol of Father Noel/ Santa Clause whom the TURCO Islamic terror source namely Turkey Soviet would accepts as the prisoner in the cell in solitary as the prisons in North Korea or IS-Islamic State in Iraq/Syria where each is confined for the duration of each one's life to be sent in waiting the time the dirty green viz. Islamic wing of Turkey Soviet will burn them. https://www.google.com.tr/search?q=n...8ZOTgqwSiQM%3A Young Kurdish lady warrior once saw a group of TURCO Islamic terrorists on a big sidewalk, all dolled up in their murderer ancestors cast-off weaponry, blood and tear stained gowns and helmets and high-heeled boots, enacting a meeting of Islamic terrorists in a parlour with a perfect mimicry of impolite Ottoman horror induced wild gush and vandal simper. But one new Ottoman was not satisfied with the attention paid her enraptured performance by the others, they were too involved in their own performances to suit attached to cannibalism, so he tried to stretch out hot bloody hands and threw back his skinny neck and shrieked to the deaf heavens and his equally oblivious playmates, 'Look at me you heathens, look at me, look at me you Godless butchers!' And then their stones and knives and even handmade explosives threw the people having prepared to greet the New Year off balance and the innocent people in the street fell to the sidewalk in a great howling tangle of soiled dresses similar to those of the Europeans and torn, and then nobody would dare to look looked at them. The caliph/president of Turkey-seemingly had ordered already the radical Muslims-or the enemies of Christmas events-peaceful greetings, presents and the like-to attack the people having affinity to Noel... She would wonder of course if she is not, now, a Kurdish lady warrior in charge of defending not only Kurds but real secular Turks and their Judeo-Christian friends. Of course it is not only The Kurdish Lady Warrior but the others-bigot Muslim or aggressive atheist Turkish women-also would be the victims of the anti lyrical or rather anti Noel activities of which TURCO Islamic terrorists-breeding in the multiplication speed the cockroaches and in the same dirtiness-engage in such histrionics and shout, 'Hey Christians from the wife of slain Russian ambassador to romantic green horn president Trump! Take guard of you! We TURCO-Islamic butchers had been trained over mesmerism rendered by Turkish Ayatollah GULEN and ready to be directed by Turkey's Caliph President might crash your brains! Look at us!' Kurdish Lady smiled and pondered 'Perhaps it is a parable of all Islamic Terrorists. And not always should we-anti Islamic terror warriors namely Kurdish lads and maids make the butchers to topple over and land in a tangle of trappings that do fit them. However, it is well to be aware of that peril in the holy and happy period in Christmas, and not to content ourselves with a demand for transient victory, to know that out of our historical lyricism linked to Noel we used to share with Judeo-Christians' history induced sidewalk, something had to be created that would not only attract The East and West European observers but participants in the new year greetings! And yet the destination is vague and the destiny is awful from the point of X-mas for TURCO Islamic terrorists say to the Christians and Kurds: "Try very hard as you could afford you wouldn't be able to attend the day of Father Noel so one might estimate that TURCO-Islamic terrorist wouldn't let the liberal world to utter the single syllable of Season Greetings at all...The fact that Kurdish real secular lady warrior knows that her modernity inclined folk want to observe what the modern world do for the possible pleasure and to be given knowledge of things that should compel the liberal world to feel the liberal intellectuals may know better than wild TURCO Islamic terrorists, because both the modern and contemporary world is different from IS-Islamic State terrorists backed by the dirty green wing of Turkey Soviet, you know, as different as every civilized man's world is from the wild world of IS-Islamic State, and yet is not enough excuse for killing the Kurdish Lady Warrior's personal lyricism that has not yet mastered its necessary trick of rising above the singular to the plural concern, from personal to general accept. Come on now! It's not the time to remember the past for the actual time is new year not past years anyhow which may have passed like a dream because of the IS-Islamic State Terror sponsored by Turkey Soviet's Islamic wing, say, dirty green obsession of the Caliph/President of Turkey... His weird obsession in finding a way to shed blood in Christmas especially in Istanbul had already been welcomed by Turkey's Caliph/President's citizen and non-periodical but very intimate consultant Ahmed HODJA: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G249o808mKc Eventually Turkey's powerful Caliph/President have been trying to invent the method how to perform a Noel Massacre and make it to seem innocent or at least randomly elicited so that the ISIL Islamic terrorists paid by both Turkish Ayatollah GULEN and Turkey's president could use the New Year's attendances in being able to do it. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016...htclub-turkey/ At that time of the massive bloodshed performed by an Islamic terrorist in the garments of Santa Claus, when the REINA enraptured-visible from the street corner, and yet not recorded by the Ayatollah's and The Caliph's polices the bloody performer in wounded cries out 'Death to who salute The New Year!', And after that very moment The World would feel that the Islamic terror against which The Kurdish Lady Warrior and her comrades should give the real fight and the hero twins namely Russian's and American's fantastic regalia may quite throw IS Islamic State off balance. Then, suddenly, the fellow-performers in the sidewalk of The Kurdish Warrior would show her that she may turn to give her all attention and allow her to hold it, at least for a limited time... And yet three days ago in the last month of 2016 ('Ölüler yalan söylemez'. 30.12.2016 09:50) , when Turkey's President was far closer than the World Press knew, only some days away from the New Year Parties he couldn't make delayed forever, but always expected, something that he lived for, the time when he would first catch and hold an The UN''s attention, he defied the humanity and implied that even if the world could find all the Kurdish people he had got executed there might be found no eye witnesses to be able to speak: He cried: "Dead Men Tell No Tales!" https://www.google.com.tr/?gws_rd=ss...+tell+no+tales The final paragraph of his speech went like this: "There is too much to use or paraphrase from strategically important institutions and not enough time to say it. Nor is there need enough. Instead of the fact that the Kurdish corpses could not be good witnesses none could find better than them to be speaking for they should be accepted as very bad speakers indeed. I would like you to remember that ' Dead Men Tell No Tales!' There is hardly a successful Islamic pirate or president in the field who can curb himself not to swear The Noel circles around the first day of the year so that the Kurdish lady warrior would think of warning of the Islamic Terror as something more organic-circulating in terror induced Muslim veins-than words based, something closer to being and action for no reason. She want to work more and more with a more honest war field than the baby tolls she has played with before. She and the other Kurdish lady warriors never for one moment doubted that there might be some thousand blood thirsty Muslim people to kill dozens attending a Christmas party. She and the all Kurdish lady warriors fighting against Islamic Terror used to come together, gradually, but with growing love of peace. It is the short reach of their well shaped but non-long arms that hinder... She has learnt that the dimension and multiplicity of one's skilful organs-used in battling IS/Islamic State Terrorists-should take the most vital role sufficient to be assigned in one's obituary. Love and honesty must be taken in account from the point of both invisible and invincible organs. Applauding and embracing the skilfulness is inevitable. This characteristically emotional, if not rhetorical, statement of the Kurdish lady warrior at that time seems to suggest that she thought of herself as having a highly personal, even intimate relationship with people who go to read her short bio... So they did and still do it, huh? As for morbid shyness once prevented her from having much direct communication with the commanders, and possibly that is why she begged Mr. SOLZH to begin to write the compilation of bios, obituaries and life stories including that of her. But even now when the little timidities as 'tongue locking', 'silent couching', and 'face-flushing', worn off with the passage of the troublesome parts of the bio induced youth that it sprang from, the bio writer still find it somehow easier to 'level with' her natural enemies-Islamic Terrorists-hidden in the twilight of field and and trench sections of the war than with individuals across a table from the clavier for. their being strangers somehow might make them more familiar and much more approachable, easier to make interview. Of course she knows that she has sometimes presumed too much upon battling IS-Islamic State and interest in those to whom she gives fight, and this has led to rejections of Turkey Soviet of which four wings namely the force of the Turkish Ayatollah, of Turkey's caliph/president, of gray wolf fascists/the nationalist front, and that of Maoist/KEMALIST/Pseudo Secular Charlatans Coalition were painful and costly enough to inspire more prudence. But when she weighs one thing against another, an easy fighting against the most bloody forces of Turkey Soviet, the balance always tips the same way, and whatever the risk of being turned having been attacked, she still doesn't want to talk to people only about the surface aspects of the life of hers as a Kurdish Lady Warrior, the sort of things that acquaintances appreciate and chatter about on extra ordinary social occasions. She feels that they get plenty of that, and heaven knows so do she, before and after the little interval of time in which she has their attention and say what she has to say to them. The discretion of social conversation, even among SOLZH/ SOLZHENITSOF's readers, is exceeded only by the discretion of 'the Turkey's secret state viz. Turkey Soviet'-its ultimate goal well shared by its four groups of its evil forces! Well nothing is worth to be mentioned at all that Turkey Soviet having prepared to export Islamic Terror to Russia, to slaughter good Gulf Arabs with the sword of New Ottoman recently occupied Al BAB for not battling Islamic terrorists but to construct The Turkish Caliph's new Janissary, and to annihilate the Europeans and Americans in the Mid-East! Kurdish Lady Warrior that the queen of heroic activities, JARABLUS, who wore a strict and savage heart on a taffeta sleeve, commented wryly on that futile efforts to make Ottoman Empire to resurrect all over the Mid-East in these lines: I might die for liberalism / But was scarce adjusted in the museums / When one historical figure who died for thought liberty was / Lain In an adjoining place. / Who questioned softly why I was exalted? ' For Liberty,' I replied. / 'And I for truth the two are one, We liberal brethren are' be said. And so, as kinsmen met a night / We talked between different places, Until the moss had reached the lips of our enemies / And covered up with the names of the Kurdish Heroes and Heroines / Meanwhile! I want to go on talking to the world's liberals as freely and intimately about what we live and battle for as if I knew you better than anyone else whom the world knows not. One should have seen and read bios similar to that of Kurdish lady Warrior in this region. It contains some passages on humanist matters which are extremely spoken and some of the people having got acquaintance with her life story that was a sample indulged in The Myth as old as the region itself ; appropriately, the brave were female, if not appropriately, say generally. This was the only source of grandeur in the history of Saladin The Job's People: the Kurds! The mythological theme of the Kurdish Lady Warrior Bio itself caused none but braver within the crudities ought to be appreciated as an authentic part of the life story here. One might remark that apparently The Kurdish lady Warrior does for his country and for new generation something of what Abraham Lincoln did for The USA. Here is her battling Islamic terror in the raw, the springs of vitality revealed at once in their courage and in their lyricism. To an average liberal, she opens a vision of the size of Liberal World led by America and defended by Russia in The Middle East, the huge fertility induced battle field which can place apparently inexhaustible power in a Indo-European, Semitic's, and African people's hands... Umpteen thousand acres of the richest land both sides of the Euphrates. The kurdish Lady's daddy is not a patriarch: he reminds one of a character in Old Testament perhaps from the most frequently quoted chapters, and he has the same warmth of the blood of Kurdish babies and Saladin The Job's soil in him. The best lyricism of battling Islamic terrorists is in his speeches, which distil the wisdom of new liberal human nature. SOLZH and other writers writing the honour based war of Kurdish Ladies against Islamic Terror, the centres of the drama, vibrate in their bravery without desperation with the heat of the war in JARABLUS. Her friend's corporal is clothed with the atmosphere of the Saladin The Job's guards as with a garment. And strange to say she looks like an exuberantly hyperactive child who is caged in the hot, no-door house, a jail amid the vast, rich Kurdish lands around it. SOLZH's use of repetition to create a battle field of words ought to be accepted skilful-moreover extraordinarily skilful: words put like a seal on the heart of the heroine, yet the tempo of sealing is subtly changed at each reading or rather this evocative quality of rhythm again reminds one of the scorching samples used generally in ranches. Perhaps it is no accident that in every Kurdish heroes and heroines the quality springs from the same toil induced soil.... Apparently the future Kurdish drama, as it comes to maturity, enlarges the horizons of the war and humanism based theatre. The original drama production in coming days, which will be being opened in the future would be directed-to the great probability-by Americans and starred by Russian, American, Italian stars and the like... She is as Jeanne d' arc, her number one friend as the mother of Copernicus, the second one or rather the third next to the second Madam Curie...briefly all of them lovers, protectors, big, courageous! They could reprise their roles in every version of battling Islamic terror or the bigger-screen version of that play like war to be made in the future...Although the bio of the Kurdish Lady Warrior is very discreet in referring to the supposed heart rending themes, and although it had a somewhat revised "the final act", it was highly acclaimed and was nominated for several War Academy Awards, including those in Russia and America. Actually the Kurdish Lady Warriors and their commander is worth of every kind of military and lyrical medals and awards, and even the merit licences regarding courage and humanism. They both could receive Nobel Peace Price nominations for their performances, and most observers might have agreed that their battling Islamic Terror should provide both them and BARZANI with their finest peace keeping roles up to that time. Curiously, none of them was nominated for an Oscar for Best Supporting Ally for the years when they gave fight against Islamic Terror, and won... But not for the Kurdish lady warrior in the trenches of the battle field from the point of rewarding BARZANI there is a postponed position or situation. If position one must know who put it forward won't sustain it for any role in the epic JARABLUS The Big area more important than several countries. Reportedly, the global liberal viz. world based phenomenon executives had mistakenly put the names of candidates in the wrong category during the Anti Islamic State War Award nominations process, although the Kurdish people could certainly be said to have played a supporting role in the humanist mission of the chivalry or rather gallantry. It is possible that The Kurdish Lady Warrior may have been least controversial for the War Academy voters! The Kurdish Lady Warrior, on-and-off partners since 2014, were in the cast of The North Syria when she made her first official recordings as an international star. http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/world-n...istian-7004827 Hers is a marathon thereof the final session would make a great success. The battle in MAMBIC before AL BAB the cowardliness Islamic terror proved to be something abominable. It gave the warriors fighting against Islamic Terror the opportunity to work regularly and it introduced her also to gain a new audience to applaud her in the cartoons. This lead in turn to more work from "Facing TURCO Islamic Terror" to both Americans and Russians in the engagements of fight on the soil. For once we find a small measure of justice being done and a worthy fighter gains some recognition within the lines of SOLZHENITSOF. The heroine fighters in his novel would now like to fight a number field battle that the liberal world had the honour of witnessing every day and night for three years... https://www.google.com.tr/search?q=i...yI3liq3g4TM%3A In "The North Syria War" the wildest Islamic Terrorists attacked in a style that the world's not ever heard with TURCO Islamic butchers' big voice spoiling every lyrical phrase and underneath, the lullabies of the Kurdish mothers, driving humanity off, emphasising wilderness, and every dirtiness open to no commenting. Proofer's note: As for "Hot Red Alarm Notifications" which is shorthand used in the warning productions of SOLZH to be sent to the pillars of The USA, Russia, and The EU states. Since this version of the war in JARABLUS is unmodified, reporting it will also contain typos and correcting fluid remnants that the above updated tale will not contain too much brief notes. Here you are a number of notations expanded with their meanings. All will not be found on the pages but in the act while Kurdish Lady Warrior battling dirty Islamic Terror and some may be found that are not indicated here. The reader should look them up herself/himself. Remember that directions are given from the flow of the novel's perspective when looking at the reader. After the Islamic terrorists backed by Turkey Soviet has occupied an area in the Northern Syria, Russian planes would enter the air space above the occupied soil -so called battle front against their terrorists actually the friends who invited them to the are-and killed some dozens of IS/Islamic State Terrorists, and from a good distance our Kurdish Lady Warrior should watch all of them vigilantly. Eventually some of her friends must have been rendering the same task so there could be no room to ooze through the south. By the way Russian planes killed three of the occupants just in the day marking the anniversary of a Russian martyr who had been stabbed on back by some TURCO Islamic terrorists. She used to change words ad hoc the situation at the battle field in order to say to some of her best friends something about the process concerning their protection. What protection indeed? The Kurdish lady Warrior might answer that question: My liberal Kurdish comrades I'd like say what in the name of God was going in our beloved soils, OK? Sometimes Kurdish Lady Warrior would rush through the town-yard just from the skirts of deserted village hills to battle ground with pistols, which they stopped to be fire by the own enthusiasm of hearts used to erupt repeatedly, as compelling the women to shout: ' Bang! Bang!' instead of the reality. All the more IS-Islamic State terrorists would rather appear from the entrance of regional gate, and turn clockwise to flee their fronts because of the reason that they might be afraid of Kurdish Lady Warriors as the children of Islamic Terrorists should be afraid of Allah so much decisively that there could be no possibility to back even if the prophet of his/hers might have caress the little cheeks of those fear inclining kids... Along the route of breaking away, at the same moment, The Lady Kurdish Warrior would cry: 'You Islamic Butchers, you vandals, most carnivorous hyenas namely the cannibals of the modern history quit that! Hey Turkish Ayatollah GULEN, will you please get these kiddies to bed? Right now?' There with all for the reply would be from the other side: 'NOP!' The Kurdish lady warrior used to use same exclamation after every "NOP!" urging her dear comrades all: "Say not NOP but not yet!" So they should be vanishing through the trenches. As for those lady warriors they are to be so full of vitality every time. The lady warrior would think they should be starting back to the positive mood. The Kurdish lady warrior used also to turn them to watch and listen to them. So that "Not yet!" means for her knowing how to regard each other as a member of the same family that respect the same mission one of the closest and dearest part of global liberalism, so just got to be all together when defending actual truth about the report from the global mission. At times The Kurdish Lady Warrior would warn The Indo-Europeans and Good Semitic People of The Turkey Soviet's international evil administrated recently by Turkey's caliph/President and Turkish Ayatollah GULEN focused instigation and mesmerism to produce overt or secret Islamic terror! So she should call-through SOLZH's door-to heed admonitions a propos mesmerism rendered by GULEN to impel poor souls into massive murders such as coming as flash or breaking news: FBI 'failed' Santiago after request for help, brother says Santiago's brother Bryan questioned why his sibling was allowed to keep his gun after US authorities knew he had become increasingly paranoid and was hearing voices.Bryan Santiago said his brother had trouble controlling his anger after serving in Iraq and told his brother that he felt he was being chased and controlled by the CIA through secret online messages.When Santiago told agents at an FBI field office his paranoid thoughts in November, he was evaluated for four days, then released without any follow-up medication or therapy."The FBI failed there," Bryan Santiago said."We're not talking about someone who emerged from anonymity to do something like this."All the more Turkey Soviet could use three main apparatuses: Turkish Maoist/KEMALIST red nationalist wing's Anti American and Anti European action, Turkey's Caliph/President and his big TURCO Islamic terror and Turkish Ayatollah GULEN's secret or well hidden or rather subluminal Islamic horrific terror! Briefly one of the wings of evil-Turkish Ayatollah GULEN-administrated by Turkey Soviet has compelled the murderer through mesmerism like Islamic preaching of GULEN/Pennsylvania-The USA!After so many odious events created by Turkey Soviet has she gone to bed, dear reader before weeping for both Judeo Christian and Kurdish babies? NOP! After the gross offensives of Islamic Terror backed by it she would rather has gone out to walk around idly, sad, and dismayed. At the beginning of perceiving the change between her "green horn infantry" and "expert warrior" period behaviours both commanders and comrades of hers wandered what the cause should be to hinder her beautiful, green eyes even in the way of forty winks. So the heroine Kurdish lady warrior ought to reply the question of the physician of the battalion about her insomnia... She (replying to the question regarding to her sleepless nights): Yes, time to time, I couldn't go to bed because of one unique reason! Question: What's that reason: Reply: Because I know that the source of every evil in the world! Q.-What's that that says? R.-That says it's New Ottoman State namely Turkey Soviet that is the cocktail of various bloody gangs: Gray Wolf Turkish racists )MHP) and their most intimate friends viz. TURCO Islamic terrorists (AKP), Maoist Twin Brothers (PKK/HDP and CHP), Turkish Generals (The terriers of F. GULEN and the hounds of MAOIST / KEMALIST stately paid and esteemed mafia type gunmen, fake secular Turkish people working at the offices of nearly all embassies in Ankara, and ISIS cells hiding under the armpits of the members of Turkish Cabinet, F.GULEN's football teams-GALATASARAY, BESIKTAS, and TRABZONSPOR charged with the mission of spoiling The European Sportive ethics! And all green/Islamist and dirty red, jet black academics making endless Anti-American/Anti East and West European, even Anti Semitic (including Hebrews, Egyptians Kuwaitis etcetera)... Why? After such reliable information who can call the Red Alarms that'd be sent to you the false things shouted by the 'liars'? Eventually the lines in this part of the novel didn't lie to the reader about The Kurdish Lady Warrior. No lines lied to nobody, nobody but myself, just lied to myself because I estimated them sufficient from the view of teller telling about that great heroine. The time has come to put me in the position of a confessor so that I should confide my secret in being unable to narrate the supernatural peculiarities of The Kurdish Lady Warrior battling Islamic terror backed by TURCO Islamic terrorists. Come on then! We ought to go the core of the battle field. Turkey Soviet backing IS-Islamic terrorists would like to make some bloody progress over the dead body The Kurdish lady warrior, and yet dared not to fulfil it! (Micro-sectional dialogues made between The Kurdish Lady Warrior and her colleagues might start then The Finale of her bio having been narrated here!) R. She holds her always in a non indifference situation and at times she wonders: Where do you think that we the world wide liberal comrades would be going Mrs. Aisha? (Aisha having entered soon yet from somewhere looking like a gallery): If we have been coming from anywhere matching to our good purpose we should be bound to go back to the same way as it be in the case of Ancient Greeks and the starter or rather the re-starters of the renaissance... (Aisha smiles to her fiancée who comes to meet her): Out for some air, I want fresh air...(Another lady warrior entering from outdoors, to inside): Now, where one could find stale air that both old and young lady warriors live and struggle? Aisha: Could one find it, comrade? (The fiancée goes out as if he was offended, and the instant choir of Kurdish Lady Warriors began to sing): Come back boy. Promise... we would be avoiding this talk. His reply counter promise for his preference is not of no-talk but talking Kurdish Americans: https://www.google.com.tr/search?q=K...dAszVyxmrbM%3A The Kurdish Lady Warrior: I think everybody could sense something in the link. Her friends try to crack a joke: Talking link is the link to talk...talk link, say link talk..ha-ha! The Commander calls off: Hey heroine girls! Try and find something bigger or rather bigger than a joke that might tell instead of talk! Her subject is open to discuss the matter in the light of the European Stock! Don't you see the honey colour eyes of The Kurdish girls living in The USA! The lady warriors: How lucky they are. Seemingly they've got to go there soon. Commander: Soon or too late girls: Going to America would present you enough time to make up for the time you lost. But don't let TURCO Islamic terrorists hear you for they are too much eager to spoil The American Dream! (The-before mentioned-green horn fiancée): Big Commander. Lady Commander: Yes? He cries: Milady! Milady! How one could go America? (The girls go out giggling...) Bye! (All in a sudden a layman-using the family name Onassis God knows why call off lower gallery of chat room): Hey the readers of SOLZHENITSOF, you look down to see me and tell us who is this author. A man who detests GULEN and stick up for ERDOGAN, huh? The Kurdish lady Warrior speaks: SOLZH-belonging to the Russian Romantics as an author finds secret Islamic Terror Boss namely Turkish Ayatollah GULEN for he used to fraud Americans for decades whereas ERDOGAN learnt at last to treat The Russian-The great member of Judeo-Christianity Culture that tampered the Turkic Tribes all over the Central Asia-with respects! (The lady commander as if reading the girls' thought): Hey, nothing but your bravery could tell The USA/Uncle Sam the truth regarding your love of American Dream now for he needs you in Syria! ( One of the respectable warriors appears in the area): This love for America may not be going to be painful even if its duration shall be endless. (The Kurdish Lady Warrior/The number one heroine in the story): But we ought to remember that painful things can't always be avoided. Lady Commander: That's what I've noticed about that rule my dear girl (The girls hurry off and disappear shortly... (The Kurdish Lady Warrior hurrying into chat place): We have gone round the chat place to draw pictures by means of word for chat room is a place of something audio-visual over the alphabet. Hey, folks: make more chat! (Off): Commander! Come here! Our lady comrades call you...Kurdish lady Commander: Hush, girl! Don't holler, disperse into your comrades! You will appear together in balls. And I shall run in from the remote corner, carrying a glass of coke. I shall past everybody to you, on the battle field. And turn away. The Kurdish Lady Warrior: Here I am! What do you all want with me? (Other girls step toward Lady Commander): Milady , we told you we got to have talk somehow. Lady Commander: What talk you are talking about? I saw the light go on in every corner and my folks took big glasses of coke, and it is just American Dream shutting the shutters of night against another dream. ( Another Kurdish lady warrior steps into chat place through no door): When old chaps have been together as long as me and Lady Commander, they, they just will teach not get irritable with each other just from too much devotion! Isn't that so? (Kurdish Lady Commander embracing her): Yes, of course it's so. (The Kurdish Lady Warrior-the mail heroine character of the story-starts out through a remote point, but sees not the commander entering or not exiting): I think I was just worn out, and yet I couldn't feel the unfruitful situation, say being exhausted. We loves each other here because we love liberalism led by America. America loves us to have liberal and bravery induced Kurdish ladies around it even if it's a strain to feel the burden of many folks' burden on its shoulders. Although it wouldn't be itself at times passes its unhappiness on our way out! (The friends of The Kurdish Lady Warrior shouts): We think it's remarkable. Lady Commander: YEP! Just remarkable. (Everybody faces anybody, they turns to the alimentation bar, some of them put down glass of milk, and the others coke.): Did you notice all the beverage we drink at the table? Why we drink pasteurized milk like a babies! The Lady Warrior: I hope we don't regret drinking coke too. (Lady commander turns toward her): What! Why the Islamic Terrorists don't like to consume anything-like coke-imported from America. The Islamic Terrorists would rather make fussy molestation on it! A girl: Lady Commander! Please remember that some folks love ale with which they would assume they might have the real European type dinner. Lady commander: Ha-ha...YAIS, somebody simply adores it! (A voice shrilling): candied yams. (Lady soldiers looking out at the heroine of our story): That taste hinders one put away enough food at the table to stuff a hungry comrade. (The Kurdish Lady Warrior): I hope we don't have to pay for it later on. Lady Commander (Turn forty five degrees) : What's that, my dear girl? The Kurdish lady Warrior: One would say one hopes none should suffer from hunger. (Lady Commander turns to others: "Oh, shoot, old people would ask why should The Kurdish lady warriors suffer for satisfying a normal appetite? There's nothing wrong with the trustable allies allying in battling Islamic Terror backed by Turkey Soviet but administrative organisation; it's sound as a dollar! An' now we all know we are, an' that's why we ate nice a supper. We all had a big load off our mind, knowing he weren't doomed to what we thought we doomed t'...(She wavers. The Lady Commander puts her arms around her, and urges her forward): Hey girls! Laugh a bit and the life would smile you...The Kurdish lady Warrior runs forward above the shadow of other girls. She stands below Lady Commander, the others above both of them. They all help each other to the light. Lady Commander sits on a chair. The Kurdish Lady Warrior stands above her. The other lady warriors stand still behind them... (The Kurdish Lady Warrior towards the lady commander): Bless your old sweet soul. The others: Yes, bless your heart. They all see a Kurdish lady warrior they didn't see before. (She looking out front): Hi, ladies, I envy you, you cool folks of bravery. Lady Commander: I was just to want you! The Kurdish Lady warrior of the story: She just stepped out for some fresh air, and came back, huh? (Lady Commander towards the new comer): Honey! I wanted you!The new comer: Why? Lady Commander: You're brought in here so we can talk the real aspects of the Islamic terror counter Islamic terror: https://www.sott.net/article/337547-...with-offensive (All Kurdish Lady warriors who fight against Islamic Terror rise, through their links in the medium of liberal chat shout): O Gosh! For crying out loud...(The new comer to the halo near to the lady commander): I envy you...you brave girls who hate and smash Islamic Terror! The Kurdish Lady Commander (Towards her): Dear what're you doing out there in Al BAB? The New Comer: Observing with a deep nausea Islamic Terror counter Islamic terror in Al BAB. (Lady Commander move, looking at both): Come on, babies. We ought to be telling truth to the liberal world! Everybody cries: Let's tell the truth. The Lady Commander: Everybody should witness that thing in there. The Kurdish Lady Warrior of the story: Lady Commander, do you think those same things could be opposing to each other? Lady Commander: You questions are all they're cracked up to be, huh? (The newcomer exits place to outside whereof there could be no inside because of the peculiarities of chat places. A girl sees her off): Well, I guess all questions in this subject are as good to be stuck with as anything else. (Everybody looks at watch and utter): Lady Commander we need you both while asking and answering! Lady Commander: I can't share that proposal here! What's wrong here besides? You all have such long faces, you spend time here waiting for something like a bomb...err...boom and to go off. The Kurdish Lady Warrior: We're waiting for other newcomers from the battle field to come in for this talk. (Nobody but the lady Commander: Sister warriors come on without having got a trick up your sleeves to tell if you don't come in here to help me-The lady Commander, you know what I'm going to do, huh? The Girls: Talk lady commander. Talk or whispers! Whispers! (Looks out the place wherefrom new comers come and go...Lady Commander answering their call talks: Come on babies! Here you are THE SECOND CASE OF THE THEME: OFFICIAL ISLAMIC TERROR COUNTER NON-OFFICIAL ISLAMIC TERROR! http://www.repubblica.it/esteri/2017...no_-156179813/ The Lady Warriors: I'm going to take every damned TERROR AGAINST JUDEO CHRISTIANS AND KURDS and I try and eradicate terror on this place and pitch it off the levee into the river! The Kurdish Lady Warrior: Never had this sort of atmosphere here henceforth. (The Lady Commander sits above the girls): Before what, my dear? Is this occasion what's the brave Russian and AMERİCAN doing out here and there now and then?














    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 01-17-2017 at 05:54 AM.

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    SOLZHENITSOF'S ORIGINAL NOVEL
    THE MAIN TEXT
    WHY AND WHAT WILL I WRITE?

    THE TALES OF MORALITY RABBIES TOLD LITTLE SOLZHENITSOF (5)

    AFTER AL BAB

    .............Lady Commander answering their call talks: Come on babies! Here you are THE SECOND CASE OF THE THEME: OFFICIAL ISLAMIC TERROR COUNTER NON-OFFICIAL ISLAMIC TERROR! http://www.repubblica.it/esteri/2017...no_-156179813/ The Lady Warriors: I'm going to take every damned TERROR AGAINST JUDEO CHRISTIANS AND KURDS and I try and eradicate terror on this place and pitch it off the levee into the river! The Kurdish Lady Warrior: Never had this sort of atmosphere here henceforth. (The Lady Commander sits above the girls): Before what, my dear? Is this occasion what's the brave Russian and AMERİCAN doing out here and there now and then?......... (The Kurdish Lady Warrior looks out): They seem-instead of the best friendship between Trump and Putin-to be having some little altercation. (Lady Commander toward something looking like a step. A girl moves above her to something stands there to give service as a portal joins The Kurdish lady warrior of the story who looks at a sick girl taking a pill from pill box on chain at her wrist): Let's give you a little something to take this tablet down with. Lady Commander: You're a live girl, aren't you? The sick girl: You're damned right I am! Lady Commander: hey lady warriors, will you please open all doors and let some air circulate in this stifling room? The Kurdish Lady Warrior: There can be no door here milady but windows for we are in a chat room! (The sic girl starts, but is restrained by another girl who comes through with a glass of water.(Then Lady Commander turns to men namely the hero warriors battling IS Islamic Terror backed by Turkey Vulture where of Turkish Ayatollah-The secret, and most dangerous Islamic terror Boss-GULEN, The Caliph/President of Turkey, The Maoist/KEMALIST vagabond D. PERINCEK who dared to kill The European Justice conception over threatening courts in Genève, and setting Berlin through TALAT Pasha Maoist/ KEMALIST movement...) I think we ought to keep the door closed till after we talk. (The new hero of the episode viz. The Kurdish Lad fighting against Islamic Terror opposes): There can be no doors here but windows no matter windows 7 or windows 10... Lady Commander: I swan! (Drinks coke. Washes down the pills with water.): I just don't think we ought to take any chance of Turkey Soviet's spies like false member of Onassis family hearing a word of this discussion. (Lady Commander's shadow diminishes in the horizon and a big Kurdish Esquire Commander appears to hand glass to any Kurdish lad warriors): What discussion of what? Lads! My dear liberal young comrades! Nothing is going to be said near to the battle field of An Esq. Kurdish Commander battling Islamic Terror. The field of war the house of mine Big Daddy so that nothing could be pronounced too much pianissimo or rather whispered that he can't hear if he wants to! A Kurdish lad warrior: Sire you know how long we are going to stand before you who might hear the little wings of anopheles flying across... All lads: Forever, if necessary. Esq. Commander: Why forever? But tell me what's forever linked to me! (The crowd of young warriors shout all together): Bravery! Esq. Commander: Bravery isn't anything to be whispered! Be Ready! The Lads: Yes sir!(A shadow figure rises in the, looks out and talks): Esquire Commander I'm standing up in order to inspect the panorama for you...( Commander sits.): That boy couldn't be having gone to pieces! All lads: You know, in our day they used to have something they called the pill of courage. Esq. Commander: Shoot! Lads: But in the future, we understand they will take some kind of tablets that kill the taste of fear. The first lad: Taste for or taste of? (Question counter question goes on and Esq. Commander turns them): Experience for or experience of, huh? The first lad namely the Promotes here turns to his young liberal comrades]: Can we call them anti-fear tablets? Esq. Commander: Kurdish heroes against Islamic terror don't need to take nothing to be courageous. Our boys cannot be being just broken up over any terror incited by Mohamed lover FETULLAH GULEN and sponsored by the caliph/president of Turkey Soviet. You know how poor Americans have been killed or slaughtered. The murderers mesmerized by F. GULEN, and paid a big, big dose of black money killed American staff at their working fields-as being journalist or humanist aid/help agents. Out of home patients they used to call the ambulance but Islamic terrorists wouldn't like it for they should spend time to call Allah viz. it would be another big, even the biggest dose of ointment both at hospital and out of it that and all the prayers to Allah-before throttling any human being-in the Islamic System for centuries and centuries just proved enough for the patients' heart so the heart could quit beating to go to the Heaven. All the more Americans, Russians and other European stock based folks would scare of Islamic knives! They ought to be more scared of the noise scattering all over the atmosphere from the minarets before Islamic Prayer five times a day! (The ghost of F. GULEN has seemed as if having entered the room to behind the Esq. Commander's seat. And yet it's only a laser based comical show designed by the Kurdish lad warriors. (Esq. Commander rests his hand on a big cat's head-the fascinating yellowish smoke head of his family's one and only pet-and has kept silence and dexterous stillness...): : Oh! I love my precious boys my Kurdish young heroes their cracking jokes! (Instead of nobody drinks anything anyone should have put down a glass on a hard surface for there a sharp clink was heard. (Esq. Commander below some lads through to a place looking like a bar.): Take it my dear young warriors! (The lad who had spoken first rising): What? A friend of his: You know what. Take it, dear! Everybody laughs... (Esq. Kurdish Commander who fight against Islamic Terror sponsored by Turkey Soviet turns to lads. The first Kurdish Young Warrior, who has been followed by the others before they have engaged the conversation or rather the chat now enters another subject...): Seemingly President Trump is just ready to break the heart of the Caliph/President of Turkey. http://www.mediaite.com/online/trump...friend-or-foe/ Trump Asks Turkish Reporter 'Are You Friend or Foe?' | Trump[/url] rattled off a bunch of countries that he thinks the U.S. should be doing a better ... that their existential enemies are back and the behavior of the Turkish .... Good Lord - The GOP is stillasking that same question about Donnie Trump!!! ... SNL Cold Open Skewers Trump's Press Conference and His 'Big ...(Esq. Kurdish Commander at somewhere like a bar): Sorry, anyone with another news else? The first lad: Sire, let me sit amongst the other warriors with my breaking news, and hold their hands while we talk. Esq. Commander: You do that, my boy. I'm a restless man shouldering to share the liberal military tasks to be shouldered against the IS-Islamic Terror State. I got to stay on my commandment point if it's a word. The first lad: Here you are the breaking news in quoted words: https://syria.liveuamap.com/en/2017/...is-car-bombing (The other Kurdish young warriors sit above the first Kurdish lad, some move in front, below, and sits on the floor, facing the brave Esq. Kurdish Commander. A man similar to a reverend American closes in to the corner where the Kurdish commander sits, and he faces upstage with smooth mimics obviously having got no need for smoking cigar. The other persons present there turn away to otherwise while there can be no direction to be called likewise. Esq. Kurdish Commander: Why are they-the radical Muslims-killing each other while they're all surrounding us-the liberal souls-to make thoroughly suffocated-showing and squeezing his own throat-like this? Why are they-Turkey Soviet's Muslims and IS/ Islamic gunmen-all staring at innocent Kurdish and Judeo/Christian folks like this an' making signs at each other? Are they planning new terror attacks in Paris? (A dove-wounded in the war-hobbles out chat windows. Esq. Commander walks along the lines. Dove tweets): I don't need nobody to hold my hand. Are you all crazy? Since when did Kurdish Esq. Commander or me need anybody...? (The Kurdish warrior lads move behind...The first lad speaks): Calm yourself, everybody. (Esq. Commander roars): Calm yourself too, Sonny Warriors! How could I calm myself with everyone-including this lame dove staring at me as if big drops of tears had broken out of my eyes which had not been wetted with tears even when my Grand Kurdish Woman namely my mom had been killed by Muslim terrorists? The lads ask together: What's this all about Arch! What? Islamic terrorists that President Trump wows to eradicate! (The first lad rises then Esq. Commander gets angry with him.): Sit down...(The boy sits mumbling): Big Commander wants not to know the complete truth about the post mortem reports he got that day from the A...Clinic! (Esq. Commander buttons his coat, faces group at a wide angle): Is there something that I don't know? The first lad: Yes...well... (And a one of the shadowy chattering figures we used to run into internet rises): I want to know...err..know it! (All Kurdish lad warriors to each other): Somebody must have been telling the truth! The Liberal Wold should to know it: https://www.washingtonpost.com/local...=.e8da227d7f18 (The first lad to Esq. Commander having been surround by the others...): Sit down till the Kurdish commander fighting against the Islamic terror, and protecting the civilization in the Mideast sitting on the sofa will order you "Stand up!" on this sofa. ( A shadowy figure passes that imaginary sofa on the chat place or rather the gallery of the chat-room.): Hey lads! Esq. Commander: What is it? (The first lad drives Esq. Commander. Others follow, surrounding him.): I never have seen a more thorough examination than Islamic terrorists were given in all my experience at the battle field. The first lad: It's one of the best in the Mideast. Another lad: It's THE best in the country no bared! Esq. Commander: Of course we were 1000 per cent certain-as President Trump would say-before we even started. All Kurdish lads: Sure of what, do us a great favour big commander and tell us, sure of what? the Kurdish People battling Islamic terror is to be a brave folk forever! (A silhouette on one of the mid chat galleries , covers his ears, sings): 'By the light of the winter sun made of steel moon!' (Esq. Commander breaks in on all the talks and calls out to him): Shut up, you! (Returns to group): Well then...? He: Sorry...(Continues singing.) The first lad: But now, you see, big commander, this one is one the Turkish Ayatollah-GULEN whose ear seemingly had been cut-at least a piece off it viz. as a specimen of the tissue wherein the mankind keep the obligation-as defined so smooth to be kept in mind of being not impudent! Esq. Commander: It concern ethics my sonny and Islamic terrorists-hidden or deciphered-wouldn't heed this humanly sense... A Kurdish lad warrior: Who can tell us what humanly sense-if there be any- may have been behind the Caliph/President ERDOGAN Africa Visit. By the way let me claim that there could be nothing humanly. Another lad: According to Turkish Caliph's official press there wouldn't be anything wrong with his schizophrenic visit but to battle the evil-really evil to some extent of anti-humanist delirium-of Turkish Ayatollah GULEN namely the secret Islamic terror boss living in the USA/ Pennsylvania! http://www.dailysabah.com/war-on-ter...s-africa-visitThe first lad: Big Commander, they-the false foe-and yet-true twin brothers Turkish Caliph and Turkish Ayatollah always are suspending each other behind the curtain, and in this case-as the highest probabilities should prove-The Turkish Ayatollah GULEN would be helping The Caliph/President to conceal the real target of all TURCO Islamic terrorists having been inspired about Africa! https://www.ft.com/content/aaf3981a-...3-cdd781d02d89*** (Esq. Commander to the first lad): Let my dear sonny talk, will you? The first lad: It's not a little matter! As declared by reverend, respectable, great new president of America the spastic condition of the of the bowels of our civilization we ought to make an easily sliding faeces of Islamic Terror to defecate at the end of the War Between Civilizations or rather between the Indo-European civilization to be sustained by Africans and The Non-Civilization of Islamic terror... (A shadowy figure throughout all this): Hush! Hush! (Esq. Kurdish-big-Commander tries to break, they would seem all to follow.): Yes, that's the one and only thing -you know the worn out exclamation of censorship-what we have been told. But we had this bit of info run through the mass media, and I'm sorry to say the clue was not positive on it. (Pause.) The first lad: Peace or war or rather war and peace! The Kurdish Esq. Commander: Now sonny, come on...( Another lad at the same time): You had to know, Big Commander. The Esq. Commander: Why didn't they cut the Islamic Terror out of the world? Hah? A lad: Involved too much in Turkey, too many official bodies affected there. The first lad: Big Commander, the army's affected, and so the official militia and paramilitary, both. It's gone way past what they call a purgative movement risk. (All Kurdish lads Big gasps.)
    https://www.ft.com/content/aaf3981a-...3-cdd781d02d89*** ***Turkish president Recep Tayyip Erdogan is on a four-day east African tour this week, during which he is visiting Kenya and Uganda. This trip is his tenth visit to a sub-Saharan African country in less than 18 months. Sample the FT’s top stories for a week You select the topic, we deliver the news. Select topic Enter email addressInvalid email Sign up By signing up you confirm that you have read and agree to the terms and conditions, cookie policy and privacy policy. Why is Mr Erdogan spending so much time in Africa? Turkey has both political and economic motives behind its push for a greater presence in Africa. The continent provides fertile ground for Mr Erdogan to buttress his ambitions for Turkey to be a key player not just in the Middle East but around the world. This week’s state visits add to that image — but behind the scenes, Turkey’s engagement is far more impressive. Turkey has 34 embassies in sub-Saharan Africa, compared with seven in 2009. African countries are also the largest recipients of Turkish foreign aid. A total of $400m has been committed to Somalia alone in the past five years, with the Muslim-majority nation singled out for largesse. Turkish Airlines, which is 50 per cent state-owned, flew to seven airports in six sub-Saharan countries in 2009. It now has routes to 51 destinations in 34 countries across the continent. This number of routes is more than double Emirates’ African network, and on par with Ethiopian Airlines and Kenya Airways. Razia Khan, chief Africa economist at Standard Chartered bank, believes it does not even matter that some of Turkish Airlines’ Africa routes are unlikely to be profitable, such as the four to the tiny island nation of Cape Verde. “It’s all about building the reputation of Istanbul as a hub for Europe and the US,” she says. “Then [the strategy] becomes much more viable.” Ibrahim Gambari, a former Nigerian ambassador to the UN, said Turkey’s commercial and humanitarian presence across the continent shows “a strategic decision to get involved [in Africa], including where western countries wouldn’t consider to be safe”. © FT And is this boosting Turkey’s trade and investment links with Africa? For some Turkish tycoons, who have a history of working in high-risk countries such as Iraq, Iran and Syria, the economic growth in some sub-Saharan nations is viewed as a way to hedge against the slowdown in more traditional markets. “Turks are super-commercial, and they’re wanting to make up for losing markets in places like Iraq, Russia and Libya,” says Michael Harris, Renaissance Capital’s leading Turkey analyst. “Also, Europe is crazy competitive and delivers lower margins. They prefer to build higher-margin businesses in less competitive places.” Turkish exports to sub-Saharan Africa rose from under $1.5bn in 2006 to more than $4.1bn in 2013, before tailing off slightly amid the global slowdown. In the four months to April 2016, exports were up 4.7 per cent over the same period last year, while those to north Africa fell 5.1 per cent. African consumers are considered a good market for Turkey’s low-value exports. For example, Nigeria and South Africa have been the fastest-growing markets for Sinbo, an Istanbul-based manufacturer of household appliances such as kettles and hair straighteners, which are made in China and Turkey. But direct investment in sub-Saharan Africa has been less forthcoming — it has been worth just $6bn over the past three decades. With the International Monetary Fund forecasting that growth in many African economies will slow this year, few analysts expect investment to accelerate soon. © FT What are the challenges for Turkish businesses in Africa? Have they been able to work around them? Turkey’s companies have had to find different opportunities in Africa than their Chinese counterparts, who enjoy far greater diplomatic and economic clout. As a result, they often invest in second-tier infrastructure and construction projects. For example, Karadeniz Holding, an energy-sector focused conglomerate, started supplying power to Ghana and Zambia through floating power stations last year. Data from the Turkish contractors’ association, compiled by London-based Renaissance Capital, show that sub-Saharan Africa accounted for 5.3 per cent of the association’s overseas investment in 2015, versus just 0.31 per cent in the 36 years to 2008. Beyond the continent’s more developed nations such as Kenya or Nigeria, many countries have proven difficult for Turkish businessmen to break into. Turkish firms are easily felled by poor infrastructure, legal issues and a lack of banking options, says Sarp Tarhanaci ofAG Precious Metals, which exports gold from Burkina Faso, Mali and Ghana to Turkey for refinement. “Africa has a promising future [for us], but you need to be very careful,” he says. Does Mr Erdogan have any other motives here? There is also a local element of Turkish politics being played out in the president’s Africa trips. A significant part of his private meetings have focused on cutting the influence of an imam named Fethullah Gulen, a former ally with whom he publicly fell out in 2013. For many years, most Turkish businessmen working in Africa were followers of Mr Gulen, who also ran elite private schools that educated the children of senior African officials, especially in Uganda and Kenya. After the two men fell out over a corruption scandal, Mr Erdogan has vowed to prosecute Mr Gulen, who lives in self-imposed exile in the US. Imam Fethullah Gulen, right, a former ally of Turkey president Recep Erdogan, left © AFP The president is now keen to deter Africans from using the schools and stamp out any sway that Mr Gulen’s followers may still retain on the continent. “In Africa, they were running a parallel structure, pretending to represent the Turkish government,” one official who is travelling in Africa with Mr Erdogan told the FT. “This has to stop.” However, African officials are not keen to get involved in Mr Erdogan’s domestic vendetta. “They are confused by the constant turmoil and are not interested in this issue at all,” said a recently retired official at Turkey’s ministry of foreign affairs. “These [the Gulenists] are people they have known and done business with for decades.” Indeed, the Turkish president’s growing authoritarian streak at home might cause unease among potential foreign partners. “He’s very ideological and Africans won’t want the baggage of the fundamental issues,” says Aly-Khan Satchu, a Kenyan investment analyst. Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2017. All rights reserved. You may share using our article tools. Please don't cut articles from FT.com and redistribute by email or post to the web. Twitter Facebook LinkedIn 6 Save Latest on Recep Tayyip Erdogan Turkey’s Erdogan kicks-off referendum campaign to boost powers Fast FT ‘Yes, it looks like a mess’, says Turkey’s Simsek Why does Erdogan want a new Turkish constitution? Fast FT Davos 2017: Turkish deputy PM dismisses talk of economic crisis Martin Wolf The economic peril of aggrieved nationalism

    WHY AND WHAT WILL I WRITE?

    THE TALES OF MORALITY RABBIES TOLD LITTLE SOLZHENITSOF
    FINALE.....FINALE.....FINALE....

    Esq. Kurdish Commander: Touch the wood! May The Satan be far from our hearts and deeds. The first lad: Yes, it's nearing to be gone past the operation by twin hero brothers viz. Trump and Putin. Esq. Kurdish Commander: Turkish Ayatollah and The President/Caliph of TURKEY are false foes and real enemies at the same time making same TURCO Fascist tricks in Africa-over supporting and paying the Somali Islamic terrorists, training new Islamic terrorists in Turkish Schools...The first lad: One might understand through the pages of The Financial Times telling the controversial things to denounce the yawn of Turkey Caliph's SABAH Gazette all tricks of Turkey Soviet namely the owner of the puppets from Turkey's Caliph and Turkish Ayatollah to Maoist/KEMALIST DOGU PERINCEK-the leader of Anti American official campaigns in Turkey-so that everybody could solve the puzzle TURCO Islamic terrorists would use to mesmerize the Liberal World! (Doc Emmett and Mom come back together with all the figures described in the Kurdish lady dominant part of the writings): That's why we have come back! (A lad and Kurdish Esq. Commander turn to the shadowy one having been continuing to sing)): Hey shadowy person stop singing! (The mama of the Kurdish children turns away on the chat space looking like a gallery.): Who would interrupt our cordial conversation should Get away from us, you shadow get away from us! We want male and female or rather female and male warriors battling Islamic terror! Hey Kurdish heroes and heroines where are you. Where are you my daughters and sons? (A lady warrior steps after her): Mama! Did you call us? What does that make shadows? (Mama above the question): The irresponsible people with very precious musical notes...Precious but baseless! Mom: The mama is right! We want the Kurdish warriors prevailing over new generations who shall have to battle Islamic Terror! (MAMA a step to Mom's above position): Mama, let me tell you... Mom (Pushing her aside): No, no, leave me alone, you're telling the sheer truth about the TURCO Islamic terror without dressing the verity and excessively bare reality cuts my vein! (Mama rushes on to the place looking like a gallery.) A Kurdish orphan to Kurdish Mama on that, say, gallery): Mama! I'm your son! Listen to me! Mom: YEP! If he's not your son, one could call him as your son making an assignment for his youth. Mama: He's your first-born son! Mom: Then he liked Daddy and loves you! Mama: That's not true for he is a Kurdish orphan whose parents had been killed by TURCO Islamic official terrorists! Kurdish Orphan: Forget those vandals! If death is a bed process birth is the worst for it's absurd! (None goes out through windows, and Esq. Commander speaks): Well, The Kurdish Children's Mama and Mom of SOZH...Mama [leaning against one of the orphans, using a lower voice relatively): It's all a mistake, I know it's just a bad dream. The girl and SOLZH's sister: We're going to keep children as comfortable as we can. Mom: Yes, it's just a bad dream, that's all it is, it's just an awful dream. The first lad: Whereof you would explain these kind of opinions? Kurdish Esq. Commander: Moms and mamas having some pain but won't admit that they have it. (Mama insists): Just a dream, a bad dream. Doc Emmett: That's what lots of them do, they think if they don't admit they're having the pain they can sort of escape the fact of it living in war.... ( A lady warrior watches them from windows in the meaning of software.)One of the Kurdish lads: Yes, they get sly about it, the moms and mamas in the war try to get real sly about the great sufferings. Mom and mama: We think it won't be unnecessary if the mankind shut up... The Lady Warrior: Big moms, I really do think the biggest humans-all mamas should not be started on morphine when having been suffering from the war. (Mom and Mama pulling away from the crowd): Nobody's going to give us morphine! (Doc Emmett toward the old man): Now, our old man, when the pain of war strikes it's going to strike mighty hard and even you may be going to need the needle to bear it, OK? Daddy: No OKAY to you ! (Mom, Mama, Dad, and Old man]: We tell you, nobody's going to give us morphine because of the sufferings of the war! And yet TURCO Islamic terrorists are used to be injected morphine at times for they are sheer cowards! The Kurdish Children: Mama, you don't want to see moms suffer, you know y'... (Doc Emmett to somewhere looking like a bar): Well, I'm leaving or rather attaching some documents-shoving by means of browser the stuff- here. (He puts not a packet of morphine, etc., on there but some formulas moulded in the bold letters): So if there's a sudden pain regarding to the possible or criminal situation of pregnancy elicited because of the raping type war crimes of TURCO Islamic terrorists you won't have to send out for it. (After his explanations everybody laugh first then cry simultaneously...The Girl embrace both mom and mama): You are not in the same ages but even the older could be left in a remote corner of the war concentrated region namely The Middle East! (Mama hurries to the side that bar like place): I know how to give an intra muscular injection. (Mom of SOLZ looks around and begins to get angry): Nobody's going to give go on this nonsense even if the raping induced war crimes of Islamic terrorists are the most serious matter to be discussed! Kurdish mama: I took a course in nursing during the war in the battle field of JARABLUS occupied by the gunmen trained by Turkish Ayatollah mentally! Mama: Somehow I don't think any mother would want...err.. The girl: Anybody to give her a hypo. (Mom to Mama): You think you'd want anybody to do it? Doc Emmett: Well...err...The first lad: Well, Doc Emmett won't be liking the matter going on! Doc: Yes, or rather no! I got to be leaving this dispute behind forever! So Well, keep your chin up, who is speaking for moms or mamas. (He to somewhere looking like a hall as The lady warrior and Mama follow him into that imaginary hall. He toward them): Follow me into the hall, Okay? A shadowy figure: They are going to be in need of keeping old chin up, aren't they, mom? Mom: Shut up, you! (They all go out singing) Well, The caliph of Turkey, we sure do appreciate all you've done. We are telling you, you're suffering from coarse oblivion, and are out of historical experiences tell you that you couldn't be successful in AL BAB! Big Esq. Kurdish Commander: Hey lads and young ladies! ( All the young people meeting big commander in front of chat room its most conspicuous corner: We are right here, commander. The old man and the daddy: Mom and mama have got the impulse to cooperate with you and... (Daddy to straighten the leader of the group out now): I guess that Esc Kurdish Commander has got a lot on his mind, but it wouldn't hurt him to act a little more human! The girl and the sister of SOLZ: Because it'll break youth's heart if the authorities do not pull themselves together and take hold of things here. (Mom and mama overhearing): Take hold of what things, daddy? (Kurdish mama sits in an imaginary chair, Mom standing behind chair): The place will have a shock because it's not concrete... Young SOLZH (With Daddy to Mom): Neither YEP nor NOP, seemingly we've all got the situation of having-at least-a shock, but why having talked too much? (The old man to SOLZ and SOLZH's dad): Let's be realistic! You young SOLZH and your dad could not you never, be witty enough to stop talking? SOLZH Your admonition is realistic but the news: http://www.rudaw.net/english/middleeast/syria/231220162 One can complete the sentence after "but" but how to put this news to be broadcasted by ignoble, irresponsible hands! Mom and mama: Old Man ain't goin' t'put th' comment being imprisoned in anybody's gimmick? Aren't the Kurdish children is not goin' t'die because of the TURCO Islamic terror! SOLZ: I everybody to get that into their heads, all of you, to battle Islamic terror backed by Turkish troops trained or rather mesmerized by Turkish Ayatollah GULEN. One of those TURCO Islamic terrorists have murdered Russian Ambassador, and the others are killing civilians in Al AB! ( Kurdish mama sits above SOLZH's mom, SOLZH turns to software windows. One of them sighs): The old man and daddy, and Esq. Commander everybody ought to be just as hopeful and optimistic as Great Kurdish Commander Saladin the Job and King Richard The lion heart about the Mideast's prospects having faith in prayer... But nevertheless there are certain matters that have to be discussed and dealt with, because otherwise the peace process... (The Lady Warrior happily): Hey, will you please get my gun out of chat-room? (Young SOLZH laughing): Yes, honey. (He rises, goes out through somewhere looking like a hall...): Hear the TURCO-Islamic terrorists in there? Where? Why in Syria and Iraq! (The first lad back to the soft ware windows, and stands above another lad. Leaning over him): Old chap, what you said just now was true either you know it or know not. We've always loved peacemaking in Kurdish own quiet way. We never made a show of it. I know that peace has always been matching to us in a quiet but bravery induced way, too. (The Kurdish Lady Warrior drifts on the gallery of chat-room. She returns to Al BAB consideration of hers) The official TURCO Islamic terrorists there are putting a wild play on scene there. They are the same persons who've assassinated the Russian Ambassador as they stabbed the Russian Pilot at back. They are taught by Turkish Ayatollah GULEN how to be secret Muslim terrorists, and trained by the dictator Caliph/President of Turkey how to kill the little babies of the innocent Kurdish folk. And yet their full education in vandalism would be based on the Inhuman Ideology of the Ottoman Sultans or rather the enemies of the civilisation. Turkish Vandals have hanged-in the last century of The Ottoman Empire-an Arab thinker Abdullah bin Saudi, just before 186 years in Istanbul. They-TURCO Islamic terrorists and those of DAESH/D AHRAM Al SHAM who are dealing with the exhibition of a put up fight against each other-were seemingly well trained in pulling off tricks-as Turkey's Caliph/President's false calling in the fraud to name D AHRAM Al SHAM as DEASH instead of pronouncing it as DEASH. They all are fraud, officially planned assassination, and to make Gulf Arabs-like Kuwait-Jews, Russians and American worn out by the tricks of The New Ottoman Empire of Turkish Ayatollah GULEN and Turkey's dictator caliph president! Mama: Here you're a real briefing prepared to narrate the brief history and recent picture of The Ottoman Empire and the New Ottoman-a semi clan consisting of Maoist/KEMALIST aggressive elements, TURCO Islamic terrorists and fake secular tricksters...Now try and hear me liberal comrades, my honeys. (Hands the official document like files to the old man who seems having got enough experiences in the matter discussed.) Lads thank as if handing briefing direction to the hands of the old man ): Thank you. Of course thanks to everybody who would like to share our thanksgiving today! Mom: My relationship with SOLZH daddy taught me the way of thanksgiving although it is different from yours. The children or rather the friends of AYLAN: You're umpteen years older than us and always had to carry a bigger load of the responsibilities than we ever had to carry; we never carried a thing in our life but plays. Mama: My boys and girls, will you let me talk, please? The Children: Yes, the angel with honey aroma. Mama: Now, the Mideast soils arable from the point of plantation's a mighty big thing to run. But we are to battle Islamic Terror backed by Turkey Vulture. Everybody: For thirty years Ayatollah GULEN directed secretly TURCO Islamic-secret-terror almost single-handed! And yet recently The caliph/president of his beloved country is the director of the evil... Mama: Islamic terror never had to run this place, children, what're you talking about, as if both Russians and Americans were dead and in their grave, hadn't they had run it? Why, we just had to help both Americans and Russians out with a lot of battle details and had our liberal practice at the same time in the world. Mom: Oh, mama! How nice you are fair! Why, both Americans and Russians have given themselves-body an' soul to keeping-this place up for the past years since Global liberalism's health started not falling instead of the Islamic Terror backed by Turkey Soviet. You won't say it, children thought of it forever as a duty, they just did it. An' what did all liberals do? These children should be living in their past glory at kindergarten peacefully... (She places a restraining hand on madam's leg; children drift in the would be gallery of chat space.) Adult SOLZ: Hearken me folk! Still a David's Harp player I'm at my twenty one millennium age! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lW3D8rysKiU The readers reading SOLZH's instrument just now bursts into the chat-room door of tears...O Gosh! Of what tears are they? Feeling excess happiness and wowing to eradicate all Islamic terrorists, And yet do everybody know who are we talking about now? Islamic Terror? NOP! The sponsor of the Islamic terror Turkey Soviet! A tragedy writer who had written the story of AYLAN...see in GOOGLE, Okay... The most bloody trickster in all the wars of the old earth? He isn't a bad artist to take in the universal theatre solely, and yet the unique backer of TURCO Islamic Terror of which President/Caliph is taking part in the Mideast war a threatening speaker, talking of babies' blood in cold blood as if making the routine duty of a sports announcer on TV and one of the best-known ones in the world of butchers who go on bloodshed! Nobody should in on my words. I'm talking about what is the most notorious dictatorship induced old state namely Turkey Soviet was and is, and would be! : Well, I wish you would not just stop talking about it because when I cannot speak I can play the relevant musical excerpts on the David's Harp! (Mom to above Mama): Listen, Mama, I've got a right to discuss my own son's claims with other members of my own chat group, which don't exclude nobody even with the exception for the aliens from other planets! ( Mama pokes finger at her; the other slaps her finger away): Now, why don't you go on out there an' drink coke with the children? Mom: I've never seen such compassion toward the children. Mama: How about them for me? Mom: Why they can stand to be in the same room with older generations! YOUNG SOLZH: That's the truth! Mama: Our chat is a cocktail of compassionate deeds not the deliberate campaign-against president Trump-of vilification for the most disgusting and sordid reason on earth, and I know what it is! It's avarice, greed of IS/Islamic State's terrorists! Mom: Oh, I will scream in a moment unless this anti Trump campaigns stops! Mama, the folk of chat including children, come here, sit next to this big mom. (DADDY AND THE OLD MAN to the Kurdish orphans whose parents had been killed by TURCO Islamic terrorists and to the girl, mom, mama above others): Precious folk! How beautiful, how touching this display of devotion! Do you know why we are all the children and the parents at the same time? Because we all haven't got a lot of children nor aren't childless! Because we are not big, athlete husband of the certain espouses to go to bed with them, and yet we are all compassionate. That's why! (A silhouette to bed cynically, looks at the old man and daddy):You just won't let me do this the nice way, will you? All right? I don't give a god-damn if daddy or the old man likes me or don't like me...err...let me use the whole English conjugational rules as a word factory: Yes if did or never did or will or will never! I'm just appealing to a sense of common decency and fair play! I'm telling you the truth regarding to the bed cynically! (The girl and young SOLZH's sister through lower Microsoft windows to Mom and mama on the place looking like a gallery): We've resented the partiality of the old man and the daddy to SOLZH's fraternity with the Kurdish heroes and heroines ever since the god-damned day TURCO Islamic terrorists occupied AL BAB, and the way we've been treated, like we were just barely good enough to spit on the face of Turkish Ayatollah GOLEN and the caliph/president of Turkey, and hitherto not even powerful for that. (SOLZH back through the Microsoft windows above all doors if there were any at all. Eventually Turkey Vulture or rather Turkey Soviet is dying of coup d'état an' it's all evil spread all through the soils-like the North Cyprus, BASHIKA, and Al BAB. It's impunity attacked and stabbed back two innocent Russian pilots! Turkey Vulture trained by Turkish Ayatollah GULEN and presently being directed by The Caliph/President of Turkey tried to ruin over the official Islamic terrorist attacks of the red berets of Turkish Caliph and GULEN's Gang attempted to sell all vital organs of The Russian Schools, and the wild Turkish Ayatollah tried to sell the dead Russian Children's organs including the kidneys and having pondered that "right now the dead bodies cannot be sinking into uraemia, and we need not must all know what uraemia is..." Then Turkish Ayatollah GULEN has been poisoning of the whole security system around the schools of The USA over school-even the mall targeted by a Turkish official murderer from Adana- shooting due to the failure of the American Body to eliminate secret, well hidden or rather oozed poison of Ayatollah GULEN's Islam no less fatal than that of IS viz. Islamic State sponsored by The Caliph/President of Turkey in Syria and Iraq. Young SOLZ: Turkey Soviet means anti liberal political poisons, venomous Islamic attacks and militarily war crimes induced occupations in hearts and minds of the Indo-European, Semitic, and African People...I'm asking for a square deal opposing to the berserk behaviours of TURCO Islamic terrorists in Syria. Turkey Soviet namely Turkey Vulture is to be organizing assassinations, murders targeting especially Kurds and Judeo-Christians, and by God pleasure I expect to get solution. But if we world-wide liberals don't get one, if there's any peculiar shenanigans going on around IS viz. Islamic State sponsored by spiritually by Turkish Ayatollah GULEN and the caliph/president of Turkey...There behind the world's liberals' back, well cannot endure to be humanists for nothing! (The girl and the sister of SOLZH to the aperture looking like a lower gallery door, on apex.): We know how to protect the Kurdish ladies' woman rights...When they are facing the peril of being raped by TURCO Islamic terrorists! (Rumble of distant thunder peculiar to early summers.) The old man and the daddy entering a place looking like a software room through Microsoft windows even doors): Is any storm coming up. (A silhouette likely having been storm lover for a long time): Oh, a late arrival! https://sputniknews.com/middleeast/2...al-bab-turkey/ The storm lover (Through thunders to the earth below): Behold, the conquering hero comes...SOLZH ( Through nowhere to somewhere, following nobody, imitating storm lover's bending): The fabulous silhouette! Remember me? Who could forget me? The girl: You looks like you have been injuring The Turkey Vulture in AL BAB where TURCO-Islamic terrorists used to murder civilians! Mom: Yep, I'm afraid you'll have to warm the bench at the war games this year. Mama: Or was it the Games of war that he made his famousrun in. (Another or rather multiplied rumble of thunder, sound of storm rising while the storm lover reaches Mom and Mama): The battle of AL BAB, honey, it was that, the nest of Kurdish heroes and heroines battle Islamic Terror! Yes as wherein one could define by means of the parole ALLAH AKBAR! http://www.independent.co.uk/news/wo...-a7560721.html The Girl: That's right... we ought to be always getting that parole from the mouth of Muslim assassins whose little brains the Turkey Soviet mixed up with the same parole ALAAH AKBAR generously! Remember all fighters either to believer having been belonging to Islam or fake secular atheists-would be anti-imperialists ones in another saying-both cry ALLAH AKBAR as they had been taught by that vulture type Soviet! Young SOLZH: Essentially Turkey Soviet is a gang state having neither any ideology nor any belief in accordance with the celestial books as Torah or The Bible! Then come and think a little why Turkey Soviet's all kind of administrators-of course not the innocent peoples living in Anatolia-yes not its civilians but higher rank despots wouldn't like the Judeo-Christians nor Kurds at all... (The silhouette pats the girl on the shoulder apparently to me her to stop): Hush! (The Kurdish Esq. Commander rushes at the teasing silhouette looking like the gang militants of Turkish Ayatollah GULEN, striking him): Stop that! You stop that! (A mild seasonal wind instead of any storm rises... SOLZH toward the girl from the corner flails at his sister whom another silhouette keeps apart. (Daddy and the old man run through the internet lawn area in their e-coat against software windows.) Storm cannot be coming for the clouds are too high! No storm, and we hope there will be no Islamic terror in the near future horizons! (Young SOLZH running indoors or maybe outdoors):Mommy, close them shutters! (Mom on to internet gallery, calls after mama): Hey Kurdish children's mama, put the top up on all sports cars, will you? (Mama off left): Yes, madam, dear SOLZH's mom! Kurdish Esq. Commander:
    (Mom above mama): Mama, you know it's going to be-probably-necessary for us to go back to a mall in the morning to buy something. (Mama sits on side of place looking like a bed, arranges moneys and changes she removes from briefcase.) Kurdish Mama: Is this money sufficient, Mom? Mom: Yes. (Adding with a laughter of laugh): If is not going likely to be sufficient we take some from Qatar as both Turkish Ayatollah's prosecutor ZEKERIYA OZ has done before and The Army of the Caliph/President is still pulling off! The Girl: Why Qatar? Mama: Because the Louvre Assailant is from Dubai. See: Louvre attacker believed to be a 29-year-old Egyptian | France News ... https://www.wsj.com/articles/knife-w...ris-1486116166 attacker believed to be a 29-year-old Egyptian ... January 26 after acquiring a one-month tourist visa from the French embassy in Dubai. Kurdish Esq. Commander: Could you give us more proof in details? Mama: That's why I'm forced to...to solve the problem Here you are the well detailed proof: [SEE IN GOOGLE PLEASE] gws_rd=ssl#q=louvre+assailant+from+Dubai Mama: Something that's too important to be put off, huh? Mom: If the girl was sober, he ought to be in on this. I think she ought to be present when I try and understand this affair. The girl: I'm present, we're present! Mama: Well, good. I will now give you this outline my children and Kurdish orphans, and our SOLZH's daddy alongside the old man and me have drawn up a sort of versatile witness! Young SOLZH: Oh, that's it! You'll be in charge and carry out the liberal mission, will you? Kurdish Esq. Commander: Seemingly this was offered as soon as it had been got the report on the vandalism TURCO Islamic terrorists and the legionnaires like IS/ Islamic State assassins . Obviously they did this thing, I mean they likely drew up this fervent outline with the advice and assistance of the somebody who handle every kind of affairs from fight to peace making for all the prominent families in the world, and one dare to remark that to the high probability our blue eyed plus straw hair Trump had been trained sensationally for his mission similar to that of this case! Mom and mama: RememberFETHULLAH GULEN'S SECRET TERROR! Started by m. solzhenitsof, 11 Oct 2013 Dear liberals, what's this? (Kurdish Esq. having been behind something similar to a seat to below children): Now it is this, is not it? Yes it is but not final, or anything like this, this is just a preliminary outline for witnesses. But it does provide a basis, a design, a possible, feasible plan! (He waves papers mom and mama who has thrust into his hand the relevant document giggles, huh? The Girl (from left to right): Yes, I'll bet it's a draft, and yet not a plan! ( A slight win whistles instead of any thunder to roll. so interior lighting doesn't dim.) Mom and mama: It's a plan to protect the biggest draft in there from responsibility and...Children: Now you listen to us, all of you, you listen here! You are not going to be no more gossip talent talk in the liberal world of ours! And Mom and mama, you put that subject away before we grab it and don't forget that we-new generations could tear it right up! We do know what the hell's in the topics you have made worn out through the writings of Prof. MES (namely Mustafa ERDOGAN SURAT using the nick name SOLZHENITSOF more than half a decade , and we don't want Islamic terrorists to know what the hell's in the vital subjects of well civilized people like Indo-European people, Kuwaitis, Nippon nation and the others viz. innocent Jews, and Africans. We are talking in a sacred world consecrated by liberal thought and liberal faith. Daddy: Stop children! That language you usurp now ought to be of mine, I'm SOLZH's daddy, not one of his neighbours who could be ignored , I'm still his dad! And I'm talking to you in his language and...err...alas everybody here is talking his language! Young SOLZH. Stop stopping the talks of your or of other's! The girl and SOLZH's sister: Mom and mama, what we have here is...Mama: SOLZH explained that it's just a plan or rather a draft.... Mom: I don't care what you got there, just put it back where it come from...Mama: Just put it back and don't let us see it again, not even the outside of the chat-room of it! Is that understood? Draft...Basis! Plan! Design or preliminary design! Mom and mama: We say what is it that SOLZH always says when he's disgusted? ( The northern lights race across sky making Eskimos bewildered totally.) Daddy: What are mumbling SOLZH? (Young SOLZH from inside of the bracelet]: O Daddy I say "Eskimos"... What? Be careful you old crap when you call the names of Eskimos they might be disgusted. (MAMA rising): That's right! You ought to say: Madame Eskimos or Monsieur Eskimo if you wouldn't like to be called as crap by ladies and gentlemen. SOLZH: You too? Would you me like to use those very polite announcements, say madam and monsieur as I have been advised... (Children, Kurdish orphans, daddy, the old man, the girl, SOLZH's sister, and Mama towards Mom in a revolting air): Coarse language don't seem called for in this case in another saying nothing in me is to be forced deeply outraged by this. Mom: Talk in a simple tongue...not in the style of the greatest pen of all times, say, Joyce... Come on now... Nobody's going to do nothing will till I let go of it, and maybe just possibly not...not even then! No, not even then! (The weak win imitates a thunder clapping. Something hoots as if being crashed, off...off what? Off, children and the girl commence crying. Many things sounds in a way crashing. And yet no barnyard animals in terror nor papers crackling even if the shutters rattling. The dad and the old man hurry from left to right and vice versa on the carpet as if tapering in lawn area. Inexplicably, SOLZH hits together two cupper cups. They cry, 'A rabid wind!' and everybody laugh "No storm yet!' Mom and mama wave a piece of wrapping paper to cover monitor to hinder the chat room to seem as having got a storm off the base. The Kurdish Esq. Commander exits to ball concealed within the monitor. Kurdish lady and lad warriors run across the uncovered parts of the monitor...


















    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 02-07-2017 at 05:44 AM.

  4. #319
    Registered User mesolzhenitsy's Avatar
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    WHY AND WHAT WILL I WRITE?

    THE TALES OF MORALITY RABBIES TOLD LITTLE SOLZHENITSOF

    FINALE.....FINALE.....FINALE....

    (Going on to be written in the same spirit as in the previos page!)

    (Laughter of the orphans and other children roll repeatedly): Hey mom and mama, hurry up and get that monitor covered for we want not the paint of chat room to come off? (A fatty or rather a sturdy one of them starts on somewhere like a fixed gallery on the screen and another one runs through a place similar to a hall to that gallery having done as if conveying jells to the mom and the mama, who appears apart from the madam. The madam seems fidget): Children, put my affairs away! (A joyful group of those children move towards her): Cannot madam, you got the mouse! (The madam and some lads exit, singing.): Now, you got it, children. ( They calls to Mom and mama): Where the mouse of the P.C, dears? (They run and call the others): You got several things similar to mouse in your pocket! (They heard some slogans placating the children. (The slight wind fades away. During the whistling of air, mom and mama sits on, say, a couch...): Come here, Kurdish lady warriors, we need you. (Distantly growing thunder's heard as a whistling wind. All Kurdish lady and lad warriors laugh. Children and orphans whimper, off both right and left...Mama and mom console them. Young SOLZH to left of mom and mama): Mom: Tonight SOLZH looks like he used to look when he was a little boy just like he did when he played big melodies at banjo for the sake of wild dances in the barn back of the house and used to come home when one would hollered oneself hoarse for him! He used to seem all sweaty and pink-cheeked and sleepy with his dark hairs shining as telegram cables. (Wind whistles distantly. Children whimper off , young SOLZH consoles them. Hyenas howls as if they could do it, yes, howls off...Young SOLZH speaks): If anything sacred goes by so fast nothing can outrun it. Within this frame of considerations one dare say The Death commences, queerly, too early, gingerly or tasting both sugar and pepper. Today The Death would be paradoxically for some Turkish soldiers for they should be killed by the IS-Islamic State militants almost before they're half-acquainted with their killers who has been paid by their own state namely Turkey Soviet life! They were to meet with the other gunmen of their army shouldered by the burden of killing their own brethren... https://www.google.com.tr/search?q=e...avH8XLYuwWnM:O Gosh, you know they just got to love each other the ISIS murderers and TURCO Islamic terrorists, an' stay together all of them just as close as we can, especially now that such a black thing has come and moved into that place without invitation. Kurdish Mama: Oh, my children, TURCO Islamic terrorists are the son of evil fighting innocent Judeo-Christians and Kurdish people...Islamic Terror does not love you. You know hatred that threaten you! Ours is, from the other side-what would be our fondest dream namely American Dream come true? If before good liberal leaders of the world passed on, if they've to pass on. Hyenas and jackals howl, off. The girl speaks): Hey mom and mama you give your beloved husbands children of yours, and in the near future grandsons and grand children as much like you love them as the children would like and be like the daddies.... The girl and the sister of SOLZH: We know that's all daddy's dream. Mom and Mama: That's dream, and yet there need must dwelling besides dream. http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/...-a7505606.html
    (The old man and SOLZH's daddy off right on monitor's gallery]: Looks like the wind was taking liberties with AL BAB Turkey tries to invade. (Young Kurdish lady warriors and Kurdish lads fighting Islamic Terror appear left in another box of the software or rather soft area; children and Kurdish orphans whose parents have been killed by TURCO Islamic terrorist appear on monitor's lawn. Someone asks): Evening, dears? The girl and the sister of SOLZH: Evening, Kurdish Esq. Commander Hello, dear commander. (Mom and Mama to another box of Soft Ware Windows): Kurdish Esq. Commander on the gallery of the monitor. The old man and daddy: Winds cannot cross neither any brook nor a river, huh? What huh? Nor any rivulet...The madam: Gone to any place, commander. Mama. Who could turn toward the ball door even on the monitor alongside voice on the place looking like a gallery. (Now she exposes an outdoor figure ton to the gallery like place.) Mom and mama alongside the madam: Seemingly we can stay here. We'll see something in our eyes. Look at the box below now to share the subject to be discussed...(Daddy, the madam, and the old man on upper monitor gallery, to the Kurdish lad and young lady warriors): The New Ottoman/Turkey Soviet couldn't have done any damage around Al BAB, huh? The girl and SOLZH's sister: Even not having been able to take the porch off Doc Emmett's house. Daddy: Doc. Emmett should of been setting on it, shouldn't be? It's time for Doc wind to blow all old winds and storms away! (Field-hands of SOLZH's family laugh, exit, a child enters chat room, Microsoft's hall door.) Can I come in? (Puts his satchel-as if it's as light as an ash tray-on the monitor. Why? How could it be? For it is imaginary as all the other existing bodies and objects be.. He coughs): Okay? (Mom and mama hurry along the upper gallery and stand behind the Kurdish lady warriors that could be accepted as hall door. They talk as if rebuking someone): Could any wind wake any up, ugh? (The old man behind daddy and the girl): Which wind are you talking about: indoors or outdoors...Rather the hullaballoo in internet, huh? (SOLZ squeezes past the old man who has run into Kurdish orphans , the madam and other children): Excuse me, sir... (SOLZH's sister tries to squeeze past that group to join SOLZ, but the madam puts her arm firmly around her.): I heard some mighty loud talk. Sounded like something important was being discussed. SOLZH: Everybody know what the powwow is about? What powwow? The well known silhouette Marvel narrates:
    ANNEX OF MARVEL-THE SERVANT OF TURKISH AYATOLLAH NAMELY THE CHIEF OF SECRET ISLAMIC TERROR
    YES THE IGNOBLE SERVANT OF FETHULLAH GULEN GOES ON TO NARRATE...
    MARVEL: "The accusations against the Turkish government -and most specifically, Albayrak- became even more intense after the shooting down of the Russian aircraft by the Turkish forces on the 24th of November 2015. As well as imposing sanctions to Turkey, Russia also accused Erdogan and his family of involvement in the oil smuggling. In order to support those accusations, Russia delivered satellite images which reveal the routes of the oil from the ISIS grounds to Turkey. A similar research was conducted by the ministry of Foreign Affairs of Norway and came to the conclusion that the oil transported from the “Islamic State's” territories to Turkey is sold in low price. Meanwhile, the American government has also mentioned the ISIS' oil ends up, through a process, in Turkey. The Turkish president vowed to resign if these allegations correspond to reality. Albayrak's emails do indeed prove the Russian accusations, and so do the various international media features which connected him to the oil smuggling. Albayrak appears to act as the unofficial consultant of the oil company Powertrans, which by law is the only oil company allowed to import and export oil to and from Turkey. In about 32 subjected Powertrans emails which he has received, he is asked for his opinion regarding the future actions of the company and his approval in matters such as the organization chart, and the hiring and wages of new executives...".To get acquaintance with WHO is talking about ISIS and Turkey please look at the third box below!The members of Chat-Room applauds Young SOLZ! Daddy and The old man kisses his cheeks. (Young SOLZH flustered): Why nothing, Big Daddies... (Daddy and The old man taking all ladies with them): What is that pregnant-looking envelope The TURCO Islamic terrorist Marvel that he is putting back in his briefcase? Could you explain the full file, sonny? (SOLZH at foot of internet bed, caught, as he stuffs papers into a P.C file): That? Nothing or everything, sure something much of every details at all... The Old man and the madam: Nothing'? It looks like a whole lot of nothing, huh? (They turn upper right to group): Shall we all know the story about the butcher of Kurdish Babies, Kurdish young married couples etcetera, etcetera... Young SOLZH: Yes, sir! Daddy: Hello, hello! Are there anybody at home? The Old Man: Hello, SOLZH... Are you with us-the older people? SOLZH: Sure. Why? (The group is arranged in a semi-circle above the older people, The girl and the sister of SOLZH at the extreme right, then the madam, Kurdish mama, and mom, then Kurdish lad warriors, with young Kurdish lady warriors at left!) Young SOLZH: Yes the butcher-Turkey Soviet killed even young married Kurdish couples when they took their children out to the tent based, cheap circus one Sunday, inspected all of God's jugglers on the rope, with satisfaction. Daddy: Satisfaction? But we didn't feel ourselves as well satisfied with the file of that vile answering to the name "marvel" in this forum. SOLZH: After every impudent meddling of Turkey Soviet's agents with SOLZHENITSOF Novel you will be able to hear more right down!(The silhouette faces front): This war in Al BAB was a warm one in Syria and that old Turkey Soviet had something else on its mind which was bigger and peanuts. You know this story, Daddy? (Daddy nods.): No silhouette, I don't know it. The silhouette or the agent in TLN answering the name-Marvel: You see, in the cage adjoining they has been a young Kurdish female warring against Islamic State in heat! (Mom and Mama at left side of daddy]: Oh, dear daddy! (The old man and daddy laughs): What's the matter, no Muslim cleric here, is any? All right. Now we're ready for aesthetics based porno! That female peanut cell adjacent to a male one was permeating the atmosphere about her with a powerful and exciting odour of female fertility which we humans surmise it's for us! Hah, hah! Isn't that a nice way to put it, folk? A Kurdish orphan: Yes, sir, nothing wrong with it. The silhouette: This Kurdish child says there is nothing wrong with it! The old man and daddy: Oh, we are daddy and the old one? TURCO Islamic terror is older in Al BAB than we be on earth. Read and search for more: Russia intervenes to stop Syrian army, rebels fighting near key town of ...http://www.france24.com/.../20170210...my-rebels-...2 gün önce - Russia intervenes to stop Syrian army, rebels fighting near key town of al-Bab ... Rebel officials said Thursday's clash took place in a village southwest of al-Bab. ... A second rebel official, a commander in the al-Bab area, added: "They ... Russia and Turkey have backed opposing sides in the Syrian conflict ... (COULDN'T THE READER OPEN THE LINKS OR RATHER OPEN THEM...? YOU KNOW THAT IT'S TURCO ISLAMIC TERRORIST STATE TURKEY SOVIET SHOULD BE SEEN AS THE REASON OF THE MISHAP FOR IT WOULD PREVENT THE READERS!) On the same day, one year apart, Russia gets its revenge and stops ...https://elijahjm.wordpress.com/.../o...one-year...Key words: Syria, Turkey, Russia, USA, U.S., Kurds, al-Bab. ... The Russian commandneeds to assure the safeguard of its military naval and ... Faisal al-Miqdad, the Syrian deputy Foreign Minister clearly said: “This event took ...Daddy: So this old bull peanut still had a couple of fornications left in him. He reared back its soil and got a whiff of that lady peanut next arable area! It began to paw at the dirt in its bed and butt his head against the separating manure partition and, first thing you know, there was a conspicuous change in its profile very conspicuous...Am I not telling this story out of porno language, folk? SOLZ: Yes, sir, too rutting within manners! Daddy: So, the little students in the vicinity pointed at it and said, 'What's that?' madam teacher said, 'Oh, that's nothing'!' The janitor of the school said, 'She's spoiled!' (The Kurdish lads sing off R at the right, featuring): 'We Just can't stay here by ourselves...' Daddy: You didn't laugh at that story, lads. (Mom and mama crying. The girl and SOLZH's sister go to them. SOLZH: No, sir, none didn't laugh at that story. (On the lower gallery of monitor wherein the chat room figures, sob and laugh alternately. Daddy looks toward them): What's wrong with that crowd over there, loaded with humour? (To a child): Hey, what's-your-name, what's the matter with you? (Mom and mama towards Daddy first then to the old man): The child had a slight dizzy spell, huh? (The old man nodding): You better watch that, moms. A proper language is a hard thing to cope with. (Mama to the daddy first then to the old man): Oh, you, old ones have on the victory of the Kurdish young lady warriors' birthday in KOBANE present to them, you daddies, they have to put on your cashmere blouses, the softest material they have ever felt when TURCO Islamic terrorists would be beaten by Russians at the fields of Al BAB. The young lady warriors: Yeah, this will be our soft time day or night, SOLZH...Young SOLZH: Not your gold or my silver time, but your soft part of life, everything's got to be soft for making the tomorrow the hardest one on TURCO Islamist terror. (The girl and some children kneels before each other as Mom and mama speak. (SOLZH in front of them, bushing them with a gesture.): Hey Kurdish children and orphans, you'll be hating for good to make crude observation on TURCO Islamic terror for there is something a little indecent about terror like a slow-motion mating-of course arranged by human- in the animals' world. Doc Emmet: The old man's got on his Turkish slippers God knows who gave them!Marvel-The Turkey Soviet's spy in TLN: I haven't spoken to you my big, soft and yet bad purpose based word yet, but now I will, now's the time for me to present my slippers to all of you! Why? I have an announcement to introduce! Mom: What? What kind of announcement is it? Young SOLZH: Let's listen to it! A laziness supporting announcement, Marvel? Marvel-the vile: No inducing laziness but making the readers of SOLZHENITSOF sleepy! Mom and mama: We could make it turned into an announcement of life beginning! SOLZH: A child is coming, sired by the father, and not out of his wife the fertile! A young lady warrior: The woman used to have her husband's child in her body, an' that's her present not only to grandparents but for everybody! ( Young SOLZH looks at the folk who behind the silhouette to portal on the monitor) : Get up, folk of civilisation, get up off your knees, girls, ladies, lads and gentle men. Get up and look at this: http://religionnews.com/2016/03/22/f...-syria-180572/ and the old man help others rise. They above everybody, to them right, bite off the end of a cable linked to something near to the mouse of the PC therein the novel of SOLZHENITSOF, taken from its place notched within the cables as all the other utensils used for the medium of chatting... The old man narrates): Uh-huh, those Muslim terrorists have been being carried to life through the Turkish Ayatollah GULEN's preaching, and by means of arms and money sent by the president/caliph of Turkey! That's no lie! (Mom and mama laugh): The New Ottomans dream come true, huh? Everybody cries: JESUS! Young SOLZH: O Gosh! I want my liberal and peaceful heaven i the East and West Europe; in Russia and America. Why: For the TURCO Islamic terror threats all European stock folks! What more than that is here:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xu4TvBUSu8oChildren and Kurdish Orphans: Where is the president and the caliph of Turkey going? Tell us everything. Doc Emmet: Let the video speak! http://www.france24.com/en/20170202-...state-groupDad and the old man: Our good children, he going up on the roof to the belvedere on the roof to look over even the Mohamed's Allah or rather Allah's kingdom before he give up his kingdom in Al BAB he has stolen. It's a thousand acres of the strategic land this side of the Syrian land near to Turkey! (Mom and mama speak following them): Sweetheart souls, our future, our children: Can we come with you in every question of yours? (They Exits. SOLZH is in screen area.) Doc Emmet (To the place looking like a bar): SOLZH, could you possibly spare me a small shot of your wit?) Young SOLZH: Why, help yourself! Doc Emmet: I will. (Mom and madam forward): Of course we know that the information about the Turkey Soviet or Turkey Vulture isn't a lie! (Children and Kurdish orphans drinks coke): Be still, everybody! Mom and mama to somebody to at the place looking like a bar): We won't be still! We know someone's made this obligation of silence up! A child: God damn it, they would say everybody to shut up! Mom and mama: If a woman is pregnant she shouldn't be forced to shut up for this obligation would be used in the countries suffering from Islamic Terror as the forceps! : Anything like pincers you meant methinks! A young Kurdish lady warrior: Who said it was not? The child who talked before a while: She did! Young SOLZH: The doctor didn't. Doc Emmet : I didn't. (Mom and mama to something... say, above a couch]: We haven't needed must be directed to Doc Emmet. Esq. Kurdish Commander (Through outdoors or rather out windows of software medium to indoors. To the side of SOLZH): Then who'd you go to narrate the result induced week of Al BAB, my dear? (Offstage chat finishes. Young SOLZH speaks): You are one of the most humanist commanders in the Mid-East. Esq. Kurdish Commander: Uh-huh, I see... (The old man, foot on end of a thing like a couch, trapping to mom and mama) May we learn the commander's name please? Mom and mama: No, you may not, Mister delaying soul! (Daddy nearing to right of mom and mama, above]: He doesn't have any name, he could exist without a certain name! Mom and mama: He does so exist, and so does be our hero, the mankind's hero! A child: One can't conceive a child to be the greatest hero here by a man whom we won't learn unless you think you're...err...to send us by email...(The child drinks coke all the time to be able to tolerate parents!): May I sleep on the monitor's sofa to keep out of contact with you! Esq. Kurdish Commander (Through outdoors or rather out windows of software medium to indoors. To the side of SOLZH): Then who'd you go to narrate the result induced week of Al BAB, my dear? (Offstage chat finishes. Young SOLZH speaks): You are one of the most humanist commanders in the Mid-East. Esq. Kurdish Commander: Uh-huh, I see... (The old man, foot on end of a thing like a couch, trapping to mom and mama) May we learn the commander's name please? Mom and mama: No, you may not, Mister delaying soul! (Daddy nearing to right of mom and mama, above]: He doesn't have any name, he could exist without a certain name! Mom and mama: He does so exist, and so does be our hero, the mankind's hero! A child: One can't conceive a child to be the greatest hero here by a man whom we won't learn unless you think you're...err...to send us by email...(The child drinks coke all the time to be able to tolerate parents!): May I sleep on the monitor's sofa to keep out of contact with you! (Esq. Kurdish (Commander left above Mom, mama, and the madam, who try to lie face down on something like a couch): Don't try to kid us, you respectable women! (Mom and the others rumpling pillows): How can we conceive new children by our too much mature but extremely vigorous men that used to show their strong will to sleep with us? How can we conceive? (Young SOLZH sharply): Mom! (His sister below mom to her left, takes bold of her: Mom, the good woman, how do you know that will only sleep with my daddy? (Mom, mama, and the woman to the girl): Do you occupy the next room and the wall between hasn't got a soundproof structure? Young SOLZH's sister: Oh... She cannot hear the nightly pleading or the nightly refusal. So don't imagine my sister is going to put a trick over on you, to fool the post menopause women! Daddy: Hey SOLZH! Your mom used not to make much noise about love. SOLZH's sister: Oh, I know some people are liking to huff and puff, but others are silent lovers. (Esq. Kurdish Commander to the children): This talk needs must be accepted as pointless in the war time, completely. (Young SOLZH smiling): How do you know that every liberal people fighting Islamic Terror in The Mid-East could be silent lovers while the soldiers of Turkish Ayatollah and The Caliph/President might kill even on day old Kurdish babies?After Kurdish babies the gun shall kill the children of Judeo-Christians. Why? Because of the common thirsty of bloodshed shared by the terrorists of IS-Islamic State and The TURCO Islamic Army! https://www.google.com.tr/search?q=t...p1dsXrLqTol3M: If one got any peep-hole drilled in the wall of Turkish Ayatollah GULEN's kiosk in Pennsylvania or in that of Turkey's President/Caliph, one can tell when TURCO Islamic Terror Chiefs have got business in Qatar to be paid for the Islamic murders they have brewed at the country with other culprits of inhuman Islam, they come to some temporary or permanent agreement in their above mentioned task, say bloodshed! This is the way one might know that! Mama: SOLZH, I never thought that we would stoop to Islamic Terror level but one just never dreamed that The USA and Russia would let them to be the eternal butchers of Kurdish babies. A Kurdish Lady Warrior: I don't think The Liberal World will stoop to the Turkey Soviet's level. (Mom sits right of Mama on couch): What is its level? Tell me the level of Turkey Soviet so I can sink or rise to it. (They all rises.) Young SOLZH: You heard what Mom said. She could have life in her body still. Mama: That is not a lie! Daddy: No, truth is something desperate, and she could get it. Believe me, it's something non-desperate, and she could get it. And now if you will stop acting as if mom was dead and buried, invisible, not heard, and go on back to your observation towers... (The child drinking coke pours beverage, drinks, and speaks.: Come on, parents. We'll leave the dad and mom namely these love birds together in their nest. Mom and mama: Yeah, neither nest of lice nor liars! Young SOLZH: Mom, you just go on back to your room! Mom: You liar! Have we got any room apart from the chat room (Mom exits through the hall or rather screen of the monitor.) The children and Kurdish orphans: We're just going to wait and see. Time will tell. The child drinking coke: Yes, sirs, little brothers, and sisters we're just going to wait and see! (They exit, hall. The clock strikes zero. The girl and SOLZH's sister exchange a look. The child drinks coke deeply, puts the glass on the someplace looking like a bar. Gradually, everybody's' expression changes. All of them utters a sharp exhalation. (The exhalation is echoed by the walls wherein the software windows would take place and the first expression is of the coke drinking child who commence vocalizing with ' GIMME a Cool Drink, you know, coca cola For I like', and continue till end of silence. The Kurdish orphans shout as they hear the child's exhalation): The coke? (Young SOLZH looks toward the orphans, happily, almost gratefully. He to windows, picks up some symbols, and starts toward files... Doc Emmet above all seats. The girl and the sister of SOLZH would seize some pillow like things from the children grasp, rise, stand facing symbols, holding the pillow close. Doc Emmet watches them with growing admiration. He moves quickly left-forward, throwing pillows on joking people there. Mom and mama to a place like a bar. Young SOLZH counters below their seat, watching them. Mama grabs a bottle of coke from the bar like place.): Hey folk...come on...(The coke drinking child goes into hall, pitches the bottles, one after the other, off the platform into the space used in order to create an imaginary area. Bottles shine, off both left and right children and Kurdish orphans re-enter the chat room, stand, facing the child. Echo gulping has gone dry, and no one but the coke child could drive one to the monitor for more. SOLZH speaks): Hey child will get me...Mom: The child's been told not to! Doc Emmet: I could drive...Mama: Maybe...If you haven't lost your driver's licence! Daddy: If one lost anything regarding to driving I'd phone ahead and have one stopped on the highway before one force everybody to provide everybody with coke...hah-hah I cracked a joke! Anything that not joke, not lie but awfully truth to, and none can make that event not to come true as long as TURCO Terrorists are in Al BAB. And then none will bring the children coke any more, and they'll get the destination to be murdered together, there, at yesterday noon or tonight, in that place that death has come into for Kurdish babies for the present time, and yet for the time being it shall be turn of Judeo-Christian babies! What do you say? What do you say, the world liberals? https://www.moroccoworldnews.com/201...l-bab-monitor/
    (Kurdish orphans whose parents had been murdered by TURCO Islamic terrorists to left side of the centre of the chat room)]: W admire you, SOLZH. (Young SOLZH sits on edge of bedlike furniture. He looks up at the overhead light, then at the Kurdish orphans. Mom reaches for the lights, put all of them on; then she kneels quickly beside orphans at foot of a sofa like place.): Oh, you weak, beautiful little people who give not up with such grace. What you need is someone to present you...gently, with love, and hand your life back to you... The liberal world shall be determined to do it...and nothing's more determined than a mom is here and there? (She touches their cheek gently.)

    THE END...


    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof
    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE

    It goes witout saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologise
    Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/arti...#ixzz4Z1yWgPw5

    INTRODUCTION

    Introducing the reader " The Little Modern World of Rankin Family" in Zimbabwe either the title of a best seller book viz. 'Do you like Brahms?' or the great Russian composer would have been sufficed, but the last one was indispensable; one must turn into a taciturn soul and give an overt adherence to a cradle of one's myth was based over a brillantly modest pianist playing hard themes of the giant namely Rachmaninov whom the dwarf Stalinism had taken under its pitiful patronage for a long time, and of whom the reds said 'Really, it ought not to be allowed, to play those themes as well as that!' so left both Beethoven and Mozart ‘sitting aside’; while no performance of any musical excerp could survive in any chance of having been being deciphired over the notes at any string instrument, or at a well accorded drum etcetera etcetera...

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 02-18-2017 at 05:11 PM.

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    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof

    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE

    It goes without saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologize
    Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/arti...#ixzz4Z1yWgPw5

    INTRODUCTION

    Introducing the reader " The Little Modern World of Rankin Family" in Zimbabwe either the title of a best seller book viz. 'Do you like Brahms?' or the great Russian composer would have been sufficed, but the last one was indispensable; one must turn into a taciturn soul and give an overt adherence to a cradle of one's myth was based over a brilliantly modest guitarist playing hard themes of the giant namely Rachmaninoff whom the dwarf Stalinism had taken under its pitiful patronage for a long time, and of whom the reds said 'Really, it ought not to be allowed, to play those themes as well as that!' so left both Beethoven and Mozart ‘sitting aside’; while no performance of any musical excerpt could survive in any chance of having been being deciphered over the notes at any string instrument, or at a well accorded drum etcetera, etcetera... And yet each ‘new musical instrument sample’ which might be given here alongside guitar would have failed for one of the son of Rankin family tells that it was not the guitar but piano. Now let's hearken Rankin Family: Mr Rankin-the husband of respectable lady Anita-said he prepared to leave the house and police dragged him from his vehicle, handcuffed him and drove him to a police station nearly 90 miles from the farm. Mr Rankin, who was later released and is now staying with relatives on a nearby farm told the Telegraph he was “terribly shocked”. His lawyer said the police had no arrest warrant and told her “leave us” when the officers were informed their actions were unlawful."I have cleared out our house on the farm to avoid our things being broken up as happened when the police took my parents' furniture and their piano" Barry Rankin...Barry Rankin, 32, the older of the three Rankin children who worked on the farm said on Sunday: “I think we have finally accepted that we are not going back to the farm. I have also cleared out our house on the farm to avoid our things being broken up as happened when the police took my parents' furniture and their piano.” He took the precaution of moving his wife and three young children to Harare late last year. "We have now consulted with our pastor and we know it is over,” he said. “I don’t know what will happen to the tobacco crop as we are not allowed to be here and work.” He said his parents were staying with relatives in the area. “We are all finished,” he said.The Rankin's lawyer N. MAPOSA said: “All of this is lawless. It’s disgraceful, there’s no charge against him.” Where the Rankin family failed to persuade the attackers that the years spent by them, in their land than others, were as happy as fresh-water, that they saw themselves banished forthwith. Maybe Mrs Rankin being in this respect more rebellious than her man, more reluctant to lay aside all worldly curiosity and the desire to find out for themselves another soil for farming whether other lands might not sometimes be as profitable, and the Rankin family's feeling, moreover, that this loosing spirit of Mr. Rankin and his demolished hopes captured by the demon of frivolity might, by their family's denaturizing, prove fatal weakness affected by the unjust administration that had obliged them to expelled from their nests, instead of ‘faithful’ springing from English soul of theirs. Apart from the English farmers honest and robust wife, the members of the Rankin family were reduced almost exclusively that losing the hope to welcome umpteen seasons excessively rich and wholly undistinguished from the point of farming their own land, with which they had gradually and of their own accord severed all connection to that miraculous soil recreated by the Rankin family a young woman almost above all certain class lands which madam Rankin called by its Christian name, 'Miracle', and pronounced an ‘honest and robust place’ for the good folk of their neighbours who looked as though they had, at one period, ‘answered the bell of The Jesus Christ’: ladies quite industrious outdoors of their home based world, who in their social vigour were so easily led to believe that all the Good Samaritans in their family obliged to earn a modest income and to pay large sums of money to poor folk around, in order to have anyone to have the chance of working and spending, that if somebody had offered to procure them an invitation to the house of Rankin family, the daddy and the mom of ‘easy virtue’ would have miraculously help them. Madam Anita-Mr. Rankin's wife ever invited the rich neighbours to dinner when some dear dishes having been waiting to be served for she had her place laid there not to eat and drink only but to share with neighbours. There was never any programme for those midi banquettes. There could be somebody to play Brahms at the piano, but only if the player felt inclined, for no one was forced to do anything, and, as lady Annette used to say: “We’re all friends here. Liberty based modest mansion, you know!” If anybody-who could play superb flamencos-suggested playing guitar none would protest but listen to not that the music was pleasing to her or him, but, on the contrary, that it made too violent a melody induced impression to make everybody carried away by excess enthusiasm. “Then you want me to expose one of my vivid dances?" They-present there-all would applaud knowing quite well, it’s the same every time one plays flamencos. They know what were in for. Tomorrow, when they should want to get up to do nothing... If one was not going to play they talked, and one of the friends-usually the poetry lover who was in favour there that year-would “recite,” as Lady Anita remarked it, or rather the aesthetics based words that could protect them from the evil of a damned yarn that instead of the protection against funniness made them enlightened with laughter like criticizing, and especially from the point of Mr. Rankin, for whom the style of narration ought to be so strong as his family life induced habit of taking literally the figurative speeches should be of the common emotions while a certain Dr. so and so, who was then just starting in his area having made him a specialist dealing with the medical service of called General Practitioner's authority field , would have to come one day and set a new way of style within the matter of wasting time in order to gain some hours, which had been used to be dislocated as a jaw over laughing too much. As to the domestic regulations whether apparels should be accommodated to day and evening time dresses would be barred at times, because they were all ‘good post Rhodesia period citizens,’ and wouldn’t like to be seemed as the ‘undisciplined people’ who were to be avoided in the way of looking like the folk of manners folk, and always asked to be clothed as it be for the big banquets or mask balls, which were given as seldom as possible, and then only if it would honour the poet or make the musician to feel themselves better ever. The rest of the time they were quite happy sharing internet plays and having supper in their gray, blue-denim, black dominated suits toilet like dresses and there was no need to demolish their semi isolated clan of the Rankin family by means of any bizarre or irregular or rather too much informal clothing elements within their little world echoing well also outside that modern clan similar to everybody's especially when living over the rural areas because of business obligations...But just as the more-black or white-friends came to taste a bit of "Black & White" alongside taking more cosy a place in the house life, so there would be neither boring persons nor the nuisances grew to underestimate the friendship of Rankin Family members, and everybody that kept them friends not away from the vicinity, and naturally that might not make anybody sometimes plead previous engagements, the mother of one, the professional duties of another, the fertile farm in the country of another. If anybody should feel bound to say good night as soon as they rose from the dinner table, for instance to go back as the doc to some patient who was either in a good condition or seriously ill lady Anita would say, “I’m sure it will do him far more good if we don’t go preventing his medical service; he will have a good night without us, and to-morrow morning we will find him happy and cured over curing his patient.” From the beginning of the medium size society of Rankin Family it would make the family members quite anxious to think that if the most faithful visitors they will be used to invite to dinner might fail them after Eastern to change some words of eggs over cake and tea...Once a guitarist friends of Barry Rankin insisted that he must accompany the piano player in those occasions, then, at the table of a family dinner mother would talk in an admonition mode. “You don’t suppose the pianist ’ll die, our amicable soul exposed to your competition whiff,” and exclaimed jokingly, “Halt dear if you won’t desire to have dinner with another people after the next Easter, like people having got no provinces!” Her rejoiced heart should be then kindled again in another Holy period: “Now you, pianist, you’re a sensible, broad-minded youth; you may come, of course, on Good Fridays, just like any other day?” she said to the guitarist in the succeeding years of the little ‘Rankin Family,’ in a loud and confident voice, as though there could be no doubt of others' answer. So that she giggled as she waited for it, for if no answer could be postponed in its coming otherwise she might find herself perplexed. Conditionally none could reply Lady Anita “I shall not come in the hold days and be to say good-bye to you, for you are going to spend all the holidays in a short life even in Zimbabwe, huh? Eventually in the farms you are to be eaten by mosquitoes and all sorts of flies!” And if there were be anybody speaking like this Lady Anita would have been abruptly: “Even if you had only told us this, we would have tried to get up extra parties, and all gone there together, feeling least exhaustion.” And so, too, if one of the ‘neighbour’ had a friend, or one of the young ladies a lad, who was liable, now and then, to make them miss an evening, the Rankin family members, who were not in the least afraid of any mishap having induced a missing...Philip Rankin provided that he had himself in the company, not only exposing his family to be loved by the company that used to exist in Rankin's house but he did prefer all guests adhering to their company, would say: “Very well, then, the Rankin's mansion brought us-the friends of theirs could find affection along with being embraced warmly.” Under the conditions of claimed probabilities therein the person scrutinized would be put to the test, to see whether he or she was willing to have no secrets from Lady Rankin, whether he or she was susceptible of being enrolled in the clan like friends social circle of The Rankin Family. If he or she failed to pass, the responsibility induced one who had introduced him or her to The Rankin's Friends clan would be taken on one side to be tactfully assisted to quarrel with the friends. But if the test proved satisfactory, the rebel would in turn be numbered among the ‘amicable souls’ And so when, in the course of succeeding holy days year after year Once The son-who rescued the piano after the Rankin's Family has been totally destructed-told lady Anita that she could had made the acquaintance of any European writer-from Russia or Spain for instance-like SOLZH such a charming gentleman, the body guard of the human rights, and hinted that he would have been very much like to be allowed to come, if their family could carry the request at once to him. As to the intermittent like mishaps within the dinner occasions having got the main innuendo for the people wishing to reconstruct the Lady Anita's organisation to have the friends around in a spirit to match to the zeitgeist one never could form an opinion on any formula until she had formed hers, so one's special duty being to carry out her wishes and those of the loyal souls generally, which one should do the certain things with boundless ingenuity. “My dear, lady Anita has something to say to you. She would like to bring all of her friends here...What do you say?” the ready reply would be “Why, naturally and liberally somebody could refuse anything to even a huge piece of perfection like that. None should be too much quiet; no one should be satisfied with the situation of having not been asked one's opinion. One do tell Lady Anita that all friends are a piece of affection.”Occasionally one address to Lady Anita “Just as you like,” and would have been instantly replied by her affectionately or rather in a soft tone, and then went on: “I know one might not fishing for my assent while I'd prefer to gain your compliments.” So one would say “Very well; I'll bring new friends, no matter they're nice or not.” Now everybody should understand that there was no connection whatsoever between the ‘Rankin's Clan of Friendship’ and the society which the family members frequented, and a pure earth dependent people would have thought it hardly worth ones' while, when occupying so exceptional a position in the world, not to seek but embrace a chance of an introduction to the Rankin Family. And yet everybody might be so ardent a lover that, once they had got to know almost all the amicable souls of Rhodesia, once everybody had taught them all that there was to learn, they had ceased to regard those official receptions, almost a patent of being eligible, which all the Saints of the East and West Europe had bestowed upon them, save as a sort of a well appreciated group, not having needed a letter of credit with neither intrinsic value nor any, allowed them to improvise status providing them with a little hole in the country, or in some obscure corner of Zimbabwe, where the good-looking people of a local privilege had taken their fancy. For randomly desire, or for love oneself, one would revive in one's feeling of loyalty from which one would be now quite free in one's everyday life, although it was already, no doubt, the same feeling which had originally prompted one towards that situation of friendship as an amicable souls out of fashion in which one had squandered one's intellectual gifts upon Rankin's style compliments to embrace the visitors, and had made use of one's production in matters of sensibility enough sufficing to advise both to gentlemen and ladies what books to present children and how to make donations for the new sportive fields in which they should be need; and without vanity it would be which should make the children eager to shine under the sun of Africa, lacking the sight of the tiniest clouds any silhouette like shadow unknown who had captivated him or her for the moment towards the cool air conditioners, with a usurp which the no friends of Rankin Family by themselves could emit. And none would be too much eager when the fair one-Philip Rankin should be unknown in humble circumstances of Zimbabwe, and just as it is not by other people of intelligence that an intelligent one might be afraid of being thought an unknown personality, so it is not by the great friends of The Rankin family but by strangers from the Antarctica might try to catch the chance of being ‘that the people of fashion who are to be being afraid of finding their social value underrated. So let the three-fourths of the mental ingenuity not having been displayed, and let that of the social falsehoods scattered broadcast ever since the world began go away. Ah that non cordial attitude that one could not by people around the Rankin Mansion which importance they have served only to polish, have been aimed indoors and outdoors. And The members of Rankin Family, who behaved quite simply and were at his ease when with a VIP, would tremble for fear of being not loved by their neighbours, and would instantly begin to smile broadly, were they to meet the local leadership induced most respected people black or white because they discern nothing between coloured or colourless faces they look up with respect and the hands they used to shake warmly unlike so many people had done in the USA before Abraham Lincoln, who, either from richness of energy or else from a full positive sense of the obligation laid upon him by his historical grandeur to sustain fraternity like house-soul affectionate and vigorous to a certain point on the bank of the stream of life, abstain from the frictions which are offered to him above and below that point, that degree in life in which he will remain fixed until the day of his death, and would be content, in the end, to describe as pleasures, for want of any better, those racist distractions, that should be evaluated just not intolerable tedium which is enclosed there with him; and like Abraham Lincoln would endeavour not to find animosity and even fight in the different coloured people of the country with whom they must fill time, say, to fill their time among all citizen friends whom they had already found to be amicable and just. And those findings were, as often as not, the women amongst the Rankin's friends whose kindness was of a distinctly common type, for the psychological qualities which attracted them instinctively, and without reason, were the direct opposite of those who wouldn't admire in the women shaped by their favourite masters namely 'The Friends'. Depth of Philip Rankin's character, or a melancholy expression on his woman-Anita’s face would enliven the guests' senses, which would, however, immediately subside at the sight of healthy, abundant, pinkie children flesh of theirs. If at the dinner table of Rankin Family one met several families whom it would have been more correct for everybody to make no attempt to know, but among whom especially the children caught the people's eye, make them to adorn all mothers-coloured or white-with a special charm that was new to them, to remain on their ‘high horse’ and to hinder the prejudices that might cheat the humiliation that historical errors had kindled in them, to substitute a pleasure different from that which they might have tasted in Rankin's invitation kindly by writing to invite one of the former yeomen to come and join them, would have seemed to them as heartily free of an abdication in the face of life, as worn out a renunciation of a new form of happiness as if, instead of visiting the country where they were, they had shut themselves up in their own lodgements and looked at ‘views’ of Rhodesia...So they wouldn't like immure themselves in the solid structure of heretic social relations, but had made of their friends, so as to be able to set the fraternity up afresh upon new dinners, Easter banquets, holy Sundays and the other holy days wherever those people might take their faithful fancies, one of those tiny roofs which observers carry about with them. Any part of it which was not movable or could not be adapted to some fresh pleasure they would discard as haughty, however non-affectionate abominable it might appear to others. How often had they credit with any VIP-coloured or white-built up of the yearly accumulation of the friends desire to do the people a little favour for which they had never found an opportunity, been squandered in a moment by their calling upon them, in an indiscreetly worded message, for a recommendation by any hit which would put them in touch at once with one of others whose children one might had noticed in the friendly meetings, just as a thirsty clan might barter a diamond for a cup of fresh water. Indeed, when it was a mild, good evening, they would laugh at themselves for the faults of the mankind in the past, for there was in Rankin Family's nature, redeemed by many rare refinements, an element of humanism. Then they would be belonged to that class of the bundle consisting of intelligent Zimbabwean parents and children who have led a life of Good Samaritans, and who seek consolation and, perhaps, an excuse in the idea, which their charity offers to their intelligence, of objects as worthy of their interest as any that could be attained by civilization or learning, the idea that the "Life in Rhodesia" contains situations more interesting and more realistic alongside something too much romantic than all the romances ever observed. So, at least, they would assure and had no difficulty in persuading the more subtle among their friends in an absolutely peaceful world, notably Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF, whom he liked to amuse with observations of the startling adventures that had befallen Anita and Philipp, and their children, such as when they had met a mendicant in the street, and had taken him/her home with them, before discovering that he/she was the sister or brother of a reigning African clan, in whose hands were gathered, at that moment, all the threads of African frustrations concerning nearly all tribes of the old continent... Of which Anita Rankin and Philip Rankin found in Africa was the humanity and it was kept and well informed in the most delightful fashion. When, in the complexity of circumstances, loving humanity depended upon the choice which the Rankin Family was about to make whether its members might or might not become the lover of coloured and non-coloured people! It was not only the brilliant pitches of virtuous sopranos, old talismans and academicians, to whom they were bound by such close ties, that Rankin Family compelled with so much philanthropy to serve them as precursors. All friends of theirs were accustomed to receive, from time to time, emails which called on them for a word of recommendation or introduction, with a tongue of natural diplomacy diplomatic which, persisting throughout all the family's adroitness... Successively they would be using different pretexts, revealed more glisteningly than any vague quest, clumsiness or trait in indiscretion, a permanent borings to some extent character and an unvarying posture. They used often to recall to themselves when, many years later, they began to take an interest in the friends' character because of the similarity which, in wholly different respects, it offered to their own, how, when they used to write to far relatives-though not at the time they are then considering, for it was about the day of saint Valentine that all darlings’ great ‘affair’ began, and made a long gaiety in their rejoicing practices-the latter, recognising their friends’ second email addresses on the monitor, would exclaim: “Here is an amicable soul offering for sharing several parties; thanks to God!” And, either from self confidence or from the highly conscious spirit of Good Samaritans which urges them to offer a thing to everybody who do want good and nice only, Philip Rankin should not meet with an obstinate refusal the most easily satisfied of his prayers, as when he begged them for an introduction to a nice people who dined with his family every Sunday, and whom they were obliged, whenever The Rankin Family mentioned them, to pretend that they no longer saw, although they would be wondering, all through the week, whom they could invite to meet them, and often failed, in the end, to find anyone, sooner than make a sign to Mr and Mrs Rankin who would so gladly have accepted.Occasionally a couple of their grandparents’ acquaintance, who had been complaining for some time that they never saw any Rankin now, would announce with satisfaction, and perhaps with a slight inclination to make them envious of their new generations, that they had suddenly become as charming as they could possibly be, and was never out of their house. Philip Rankin's children would not care to shatter the people's pleasant illusion, but would look at Anita Rankin-the mom, as she hummed the air of:
    -What is this mystery?
    -We cannot understand it at all;
    -Of imagines fugitive . . .;
    -In matters such as this it is best to close one’s eyes.
    A few months later, if Philip Rankin asked a new friends of theirs
    -What about old ones? Do you still see as much of them as ever?” the other’s face would lengthen:
    -Ever mention their name to us again!
    -But I thought that you had got such friends of your old parents, huh?
    Eventually they had been very intimate amicable friends in this way for several months with some cousins or nephews of grandmother, dining almost every evening at our house. Did they suddenly, and without any warning cease to appear? One could suppose them to be ill, and the new generations of the house were going to send to inquire for them, weren't they? When would rather try to find a clue, in bed room, having left a letter on the carpet, which they used to crouch once? Had they left by any note accidentally in the note book of granddaughters or so. Did they In this announced that they were leaving Rhodesia and would not be able to come to the Africa again. As to the kitchen affairs the cook had been Anita Rankin, and at the moment of condensing relations she was the only one of the household whom he had thought it necessary to inform. But when her husband for the time being was one of the industrious man in society, or at least one whose work was not so lowly, nor his position so irregular that he was unable to arrange for his reception not in ancient country Rhodesian society and yet that of the newest-Zimbabwe, then for Anita's sake Philip Rankin would return to his work more vividly, but only to the particular orbit in which he moved or into which he had drawn himself. It is not so good depending on Zimbabwe for this evening, his friends would say; “don’t you remember, your European dream in the past?” As a matter of fact his friends would secure invitations coming from The Rankin's Family for them to the most exclusive drawing-rooms of the Rankin's Mansion... To those houses where they themselves went regularly, for holy day dinners or for chatting in several corners; every Good Sunday, after a slight improvement imparted to the carpets there stiffly swept through proper voltage flowing in the cables locked to the interconnected system that had tempered with a certain softness the cleanness of the green, blue red colours! At times the friends would select a flower matching to those carpets and set out to meet The Rankin's Family at the house of circle; and then, thinking of the admiration peculiar for the high fidelity folk, whom every neighbours always treated exactly as everybody pleased, would, when they met them there. Would it mean lavish upon both the hosts and the guests in the presence of the women like Anita Rankin whom everybody loved, and would find a fresh charm in that worldly existence of which she had grown brilliantly or rather briskly, but whose substance, pervaded and warmly coloured by the glistening light which she had slipped into a cosy corner, seemed to everybody beautiful and rare, now that both the guests and the hosts had incorporated in it an afresh, survival. And yet while each of these behavioural configurations, each of these affinities had been the realized, more or less complete, out of a dream born of the sight of a face or a form which Anita and Philip Rankin had spontaneously, and without effort on their part, found it charming, it was quite another matter when, one day at the chapel, they were introduced to the certain Monsieur and Madam X. by an old friend of their own, who had spoken of them to as one of the ravishing old chaps with whom they might very possibly come to an understanding in the condition of being in the same sense and sensation. But if it had made them out to be harder of conquest than their mansion actually was, so as to appear to be conferring over simple mechanism, say, a special favour by the introduction itself. They had struck any Rankin not, certainly, as being devoid of incoherence, but as endowed with a style of beauty which left him indifferent, which aroused in him no humanly adhesion, which gave Rankin Family, indeed, a sort of physiological repulsion; as one of those people of whom every souls can name some, and each will name different examples, who are the converse of the type which their senses would demand to give them any pleasure The Rankin Family's profile was too mild, its profile rising from a too mild frame to a major sensitive feature, its members cheeks too prominently pink with joy, their standard features too tightly drawn. Their eyes were soft, but so diminishing that they seemed to be bending beneath their own will, softening the rest of their face and always made their appear very well or in an sanity induced humour. Some times after any introduction at the public halls as those arraigned for choir concerts... Once one lady friend of Rankin Family had written to ask Mrs Rankin whether she might see her new house, which would interest her so much, she, as Lady Anita used to describe as an expert woman with a taste for beautiful things, saying that she would know her better when once she had seen her in his ‘ new home,’ where she imagined that madam to be “so comfortable with her five o'clock tea and her hand made laces”; although she had not concealed her surprise at his being in that part of the town, which must be so surprisingly out of the city's skirts, and was “not nearly smart enough for such a very smart lady.” And when she allowed lady Anita to come she had said to her as she left how sorry she was to have stayed so short a time in a house into which she was so glad to have found her way at last, speaking of her as though she had meant something more to her than the rest of the people she knew, and appearing to unite their two selves with a kind of philanthropic bond which had made both of them smile. But at the time of worldly changes, hued already with pitch dark at times, which lady Anita's family was approaching, when some people can content themselves with being in love for humanism of loving the mankind without expecting too much in return, this linking of international hearts, if it is no longer, as in early youth, the goal towards which could seem as an eternal mission, of necessity, tends, still is bound to love by so strong an association of humanist ideas that it may well become the cause of philanthropy if it presents itself first.
    ATTENTION PLEASE:
    TO: PROF. MES SOLZHENITSOF
    FROM: THE GUINNESSWORLDRECORDS
    You will be notified as to whether your application has been accepted within 5 working days.You can review the Application Summary in your profile. Your application reference RECORDS170222110455lcn/22nd FEB. 2017)
    In the near past they dreamt of possessing the heart of all the Africans whom they loved; later, the feeling that they possessed the heart of the whole world and it even might be enough to make them fall in love with the people-if there were any-of the other planets-similar to the earth- of the galaxy. And forties, at an age of an ordinary mansion of an extra ordinary family like that of Anita and Philip Rankin when it would appear-since the family members seek in love before everything else a subjective pleasure-that the taste for the society's main power i.e. the family should play the larger part in its procreation philanthropy , fraternity may come into being, love of every colours of the mankind, without any special situation in desire. At this time of life Anita and Philip Rankin has already been wounded more than once by the darts of humanism; it no longer evolves by itself, obeying its own comprehensible and people feeding laws, before their passive and astonished heart of the parents and the children. Then they came to its aid; none could falsify it by remembrance and by devotion; recognising every symptoms of the extra ordinary sympathy ones might recall and recreate for the sake of the rest. Since they possessed its non-heretic sacredness, engraved in the depths of their hearts in its entity, there would be no need of any member of The Rankin Family to repeat the opening phases, potent with the admiration which philanthropy inspires, for them to remember all that following events. And if the Rankin family begin to remember in the middle, where memoirs-for the most part-reflects of our existing, henceforward, for one another only, they are well enough to attain the cadence that melody they call the memory of the life to be able to take it up and follow their partner, without any moment to be assigned to silence, at any pause in their voice production namely to maintain the communication. Anita Rankin is not the mere object to be visited or rather to be seen the daughters of the angels viz. the lady neighbours; so their visits grew more frequent, and doubtless each visit revived the sense of humanly satisfaction-not amusement of course-which they felt at the sight of the face of the hosts whereof details had somewhat forgotten in the interval, not remembering it as either so expressive or, in spite of the eternal youth of The Rankin's Family members, not faded but turned to a pastel hue; they used to regret, while they were changing words freely at the table, that their really considerable humanist attitude was not of the kind which everybody spontaneously admired. It must be remarked that for the time being the members of Rankin Family's face appeared fading and having been being more prominently attractive than it actually was, because their forehead-full of anxiousness-and the upper part of her cheeks pinkie under a special anxiety which they would not show-in a colourless fear-to their friends, a single and almost plane surface, were covered by the masses of shadows which noble souls would carry at certain period, drawn-like a rainy cloud- forward in a tattering form, raised towards the skull in crimped waves and falling in stray lines around the limps; while as for them in a vague figure, and admirably built so that it could not be possible to make out its continuity... On account of the fashion of suffering from the social restlessness then prevailing, and in spite of their being one of the most successful people in the continent for the family budget, jetting downwards in donations, as though over an imaginary bottomless pit, and ending in no point, beneath which bulged out the deeds of The Good Samaritan of their double loyalty to the benevolence inherited by the Saints of the Europe, gave them, every year, the appearance of being composed of different sections well fitted together... One might to such an extent see that some people would do the most frivolous zigzags within in the inner sensation following each other successively, and yet in complete independence, controlled only by the fancy of the designer or rather The Rankin Family's guests or the rigidity of their material, the line which led them to the points of sharing the common taste, thoughts of opposing or ameliorating designs, or carry along the common sense, but nowhere attached themselves to the opposing fronts, who, according as the architecture of their friendship or neighbourhood and would draw their friendship towards or away from their own choices, find themselves neither in order to make no suffocation nor else completely burial to put the special style of sharing life as a whole. But, after their guests had left them, the members of the Rankin family would think with a smile of theirs telling them how the time would drag until they allowed the guests to come again; everybody might remember the anxious, timid way in which they had once begged Anita and Philip Rankin that it might not be very long, and the way in which they had looked at the hosts then, fixing upon them the guests' fearful and imploring gaze, which gave them a touching air beneath the bunches of artificial gestures fastened in the front of their hand-shake, tied with strings of coloured and white tenderness.From the point of view regarding to reluctant personalities Philip Rankin would offer some more things and ask “And won’t you?” while he should have ventured to add, “come just once and take tea with us?” for he had pleaded pressure of work, an early harvest which, in reality, he had never might have abandoned nor postponed even a second. He knew that was not useless even within great charity, and he would repeat, “ No matter we might be a little wild thing like the mankind beside the learned souls like angels!" The Rankin Family should be like the golden heart tailor in the fable, and yet could the feeble memory of the author, Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF point the number of the page therein a golden heart tailor might be remarked if there might be any tale about her or him? Instead of several hindrance cutting the ways going to the real adventures-not tales-Ii say, the author should like to learn too much about that golden family, to know things about The Rankin, to be well initiated in writing them or drawing the visionary parts of their feature apt to be seen over the filmy recordable tape of the movie picture. What fun I-Prof. MES should be to become a regular written material worm, to bury my nose even in a lot of old newspapers! They-to the highest probability-had not disappeared, with that self-satisfied air of Anita Rankin which a smart woman would adopt when she would insist that her one desire should be to give herself up, without fear of soiling her fingers, to some toilsome tasks, such as baking a cake, with her hands right in the dish itself. One would only feel sheer envy at their style of hosting, but that way of serving tea, and cake, and hazelnuts, and pickle, and grapefruit without stopping one from seeing them couldn't say,” they meant show" or “I have ever heard of such friendly hosting; this kind manners is alive still all over the world? I see any of those things in London, so as to have some idea of what is going on behind that great cordiality which works so excellent, that the hosts' head which I feel sure is always puzzling away about colourful things; just make somebody to be musing ‘There, that’s what the Rankin Family should be thinking about!’ What a design it would be to be able to help them with one's brilliant amicable style of hosting the guests white or coloured.”It ought to be judged that had they sought an excuse in their fear of forming new friendships, which they gallantly described as the Rankin Family's fear of a hopeless passion. Then? Is it right that one would add “They are afraid of falling out of their neighbours? How touching that would be, when their amicable souls go about seeking much more than anything else, and would give their spirit just to find a little anti-love somewhere The Rankin Family members had owned in their homes, so naturally and with such an air of conviction that they had been genuinely touched. One would almost tatter then “All friends of yours-no matter African or European stock must have made you feel as happy as punch. And you think that the rest are all like theirs. The guests at the dinner table can have understood you utterly: you are so utterly different from ordinary people. That’s what one liked about you when one first saw you; one should feel at once that you weren’t like everybody else.”One ought to remark then, besides, there’s Rankin Family very fond of philanthropy and having continued, to know how humanity was to be appreciated; they have felt a whole heap of things to do in the way of humanist approach amidst African and the European stock folk, and never any time to spare. Why, they have never seen anything to do apart from the help to human. The family members of The Rankin Family always felt themselves free in the deeds of a Good Samaritan, and they always will be free if somebody want them to make something linked to charity, donation, and other kind of good deeds. If one ask them whatever hour of the day or night it may suit Rankin Family to behave in that very mood, everybody might just send for them, and they should be only too delighted to come. Would they do that while there could be any pretext to postpone it? Does one, actually know what they should really like to introduce new friends to old ones, where they used to do go every evening. Just fancy their finding new friends there, and thinking that it was a little for the old one's sake that some of them had gone. No doubt, in thus remembering their conversations, in thinking about them thus when they-The Rankin Family was alone, they did no more than call old and new images into being among those of countless neighbours in their amicable dreams; but if, thanks to some non-fancied situations or even perhaps without the assistance of any situation.... How could it elicit as a mental mechanism? The circumstance which presents itself at the moment when a mental state, latent before, makes itself felt! It may well have had no influence whatsoever upon that situation, the image of both new and old friends came to absorb the whole of their imaginations, if from those imaginative elements the memory of theirs could no longer be eliminated, then their realistic imperfections would no longer be of the least importance, nor would the conformity of the concrete events, more or less than any other, to the requirements of The Rankin’s taste; since, having become the life plans of theirs which everybody loved, it must henceforth the old and new friends capable of causing them happiness or hope at least.Whatsoever happened-from the point of happiness or hope-there their grandparents had known-which was more than could be said of any other actual acquaintance-the Rankin Family. But they had entirely severed their connection with what they called “Actual Life Based Generation” taking a general view of them as one who had risen-though without losing hold of energy-among the crowds of Zimbabwe. Several times they received many letters from both colour people asking whether their grandparents could put all amicable souls in touch with them. “On guard!” they exclaimed as they read the letters, they would say“ We're not at all surprised; Rankin Family members were bound to finish up like that. A nice lot of people! We cannot do what they ask, because, in the first place, we no longer know the people in question. Besides, there must be both coloured and non-coloured people in it somewhere, and we don’t mix ourselves up in such matters. Ah, well, we shall see some fun if one of us begin running after the new generations of Rankin Family”Were it be any negativism-on their grandparents refusal to act as sponsor in the acts of The Rankin Family's charity, it would be the common sense in the family itself that had taken the destitute ones to the mansion and provide them with food, drink, new suits to wear, good overcoats to be fallen back etcetera. The Rankin Family had would rather dining with them, on the good Sundays when the half mature Rankin-either the lady or the young man-made their first appearance in a semi official meeting and Philip Rankin's daddy, the first guitar amateur to be mention in the genealogy of the family and his soprano aunt, and the pianist then in favour, while these were joined, in the course of the evening, by several more of the ‘philanthropist’...Of the mission regarding to humanism? The medic of the Rankin Family namely the family health academic /MD., Ph D. was never quite certain of the tone in which he ought to reply to any observation about the patients no matter the speaker was jesting or in earnest. Actually in every events he would embellish all his facial expressions...Conditionally, a provisional smile in his expectations subtlety would shield him from the charge of being a simpleton, if some remarks addressed to him should turn out to have been superficial. But as he must also be prepared to face the alternative facetiousness, he never dared to allow any smile a definite expression on general features of his so that one might see there a flickering within the boundaries of uncertainty, in which one might decipher the question that one never dared to ask: if he really meant that. Eventually everyone was more confident of the manner in which one ought to conduct oneself under the roof of the Rankin Family , or indeed at the dinner table generally, than was in a drawing-room; and one might be seen greeting guests, eating or drinking with a malicious appétit which would absolved one's subsequent behaviour of all proper details, since it proved, if it should turn out unsuited to the occasion, that one was well aware of that, and that if one had assumed a witty smile! On every points, however, where a plain question appeared to everybody to be embraced, the one would be unsparing in one's endeavours to cultivate the eternal friendship instead of one's probable ignorance and uncertainty and so to help complete the amicable spirit availing there-The Rankin's. Then let it be matching to that, following the cordiality given to every friends by a wise lady-Anita Rankin on his first coming up to the mansion from the vicinity, and they would never let pass either any part of the speech figurative or symbolic or even a proper utterance that was new to the hosts without an effort to secure in giving the fullest information upon it. A propos the idioms and figurative speeches, one of the Rankin Family's guest-a gentleman, having been insatiable in his thirst for knowledge, for seemingly he was imagining himself at times the Rankin Family members used to use more definite meanings than they were actually the case, he would want to know what, exactly, was intended by those which he most frequently heard used: ‘lovely or pretty,’ ‘golden heart,’ ‘the life of a recluse,’ ‘day in and day out,’ ‘a king of charity, ‘to shake hand warmly,’ ‘to be amicable ,’ and so forth; and in frankly organized circumstances he himself might make use of them in conversation. Actually one might know that if one would be failing in the new word or newly invented term cases, one should adorn the brilliant words which were to be uttered in one's hearing, one should be used merely to repeat them to oneself in a questioning tone, which, one would thought, would suffice to furnish one's word treasury or rather ones personal thesaurus with explanations for which one would not ostensibly be after them that one couldn't seek voluntarily.As the critical point of view within the universal representation of which one might pride oneself, was, eventually, couldn't be completely lacking, that refinement of good spirit based on humanism which consists in assuring someone whom one would feel oneself obliging in any way, without expecting to be appreciated, that it is really oneself that is obliged to the people, shouldn't be wasted on anybody at all, who took everything that he heard in its sense of humour. However blind any lady or gentleman there may have been to one's faults, Anita and Philip Rankin wouldn't be genuinely annoyed, though they still couldn't have continued to regard one as brilliantly clever, when, after they had invited one to see and hear omnipotent guests from a remote corner, and should said politely: “It is very good of you to have come, dear, especially as we're sure you must often have heard omnipotent neighbours of ours; and besides, we're afraid we’re rather too near the stage,” the person there in the remote corner, who had come into the attractive point with a smile which waited before settling upon or vanishing from his face until someone in authority should enlighten one as to the merits of the spectacle, replied: “To be sure, you are far too near the stage, and one is not to be getting sick of any omnipotent ones. If one would have expressed a wish that one should share the chats very rich in word and expression treasury of one's for one would rather wish to engage in the dialogues without the help of the hosts' command. One would be only too glad to be able to be in that great conversation. What would one not do to please oneself, and yet one should be so good.” And one ought to go on, “Dear omnipotent; that’s what they call the style of author, isn’t it? You see, often, too, that she ‘sets the boards on fire.’ That’s an odd expression, isn’t it?” in the hope of an enlightening commentary, which, however, was not forthcoming. “Do you know,” lady Rankin would have said to her husband, “I believe we are going the wrong way to have our guests around when we depreciate anything we offer the one envying the makers of rich English. One wouldn't a scientist who should live quite apart from our everyday existence; one ought not know nothing oneself of what things might be worth, and one might accept everything that the omnipotent would say as holy text.”

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 03-09-2017 at 03:58 PM.

  6. #321
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    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof

    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE

    It goes without saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologize
    Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/arti...#ixzz4Z1yWgPw5

    (Continuing from the last paragraph above)

    Had one heard or even read the text there could be no possibility to apologize successfully, saying "I never dared to mention it,” The Omnipotent guest, but I’ve noticed the same thing myself.” And on the following Good Sundays, instead of sending to that one an antic souvenir that cost some hundred Euros, and pretending that it was a mere trifle as if Philip Rankin bought an artificial stone for three cents, and let it be understood that it was sent in a style humble and timid. When Anita and Philip Rankin had announced that they were to see that shy one that evening; “The Rankin Family” one had exclaimed in a tone perplexed profoundly by his astonishment, for regarding even the smallest piece of news would always should be taken utterly unawares by one who imagined oneself to be perpetually in readiness for anything to astonish. As a matter of fact one, say, seeing that no one could answer, went on asking “Omnipotent! Who in this house is Omnipotent?”, and one would shout, in a frenzy of anxiety which might subside as soon as Lady Anita should explain, “Why, Omnipotent’s an intimate friend, whom we always told about us.” “ Then one would say "Gosh, very good, ; that’s all right, then,” would answer one, at once mollified. As for the other, none was overjoyed at the prospect of The omnipotent’s appearing at the Rankin’s, because everybody supposed everybody's eager to be in love with being The Omnipotent, and was always ready to assist at omnipotent lovers’ meetings. So that one would utter “Nothing amuses me more than matching to be called as omnipotent,” Obviously someone might have confided to one; “All sort people of the ones apt to be called as omnipotent have been tremendously successful, even with the most beautiful women of the world!” In telling the members of The Rankin Family that one was extremely ‘smart,’ the omnipotent should alarm them with the prospect of somebody ‘bore.’ If one could manage when one arrived, however, to make an excellent impression, an unspoken cause of which, though they did not know it, was one's familiarity with the best society. The Rankin Family's guests-including omnipotent ones-had, indeed, one of those advantages which people who have lived and moved in the world enjoy over others, even people of excessively intelligence and refinement, and yet who have never gone into society, namely that they no longer see it metamorphosed by the longing or repulsion with which it fills the imagination, but regard it as quite unfruitful. As one knows through holy books the good nature of children, freed from all taint of snobbishness... And the aforesaid guests from the fear of seeming too friendly, grown independent, in fact, has the ease, the grace of movement of a trained thought based gymnast each of whose limbs of the brain's limbic system would carry out precisely the movement that is required without any clumsy participation by the rest of the mental faculties humanly. The simple and elementary gestures used by the human of the world when one courteously holds out one's hand to any unknown green-horn who is being introduced to somebody, and when one bows discreetly before the local celebrities to whom one has been being introduced, had gradually pervaded, without one's being conscious of it, the whole of The Rankin’s farmers' social organizations! So that in the company of the guests of the Rankin's Family humanist than his own, such as the discriminative feelings induced groups and their non-humanist friends, they instinctively would expose an assiduity, and made introductory overtures with which, by their account, any of the other under the risk of being appreciated as ‘the bore’ would have dispensed. One chilled, though for a moment only, on meeting another one; for seeing one close one eye with an ambiguous smile, before "the ones" had yet spoken to one another (a grimace which one of those 'ones' styled “letting them all would like to embrace each other, one supposed that the other one recognised another from having met one already somewhere, probably in some group of ‘ill-fame,’ though these one oneself very rarely visited, never having made a habit of indulging in the smuggling sort of love. Regarding such a amalgam as in good taste, especially before the other guests of the Rankin Family, whose opinion of oneself it might easily alter for the worse, one assumed one's most icy manner. But when they learned that the lady Anita next to the new ones was her family physician and nurse, they decided that so young a spouse from the Rankin Family would not deliberately, in Philip Rankin's wife, say the hearing of hers, have made any allusion recreation of that order, and so ceased to interpret the expressions of family's physician and nurse in the sense which they had at first expected. The nurse at once invited an old farmer and a young plumber to Rankin's to dine with the old chaps' group in the studio the studio like fiesta hall with the physician and some omnipotent folk, and the Rankin family found them very pleasant. “Perhaps they will be more highly favoured than the rest of the guests of yours have been,” the nurse broke in, with anti-mock and anti-resentment joyfulness of the favour having been gained already, “perhaps you will be allowed to see the plumber’s drafts to ameliorate the dysfunction of the conduit...” None could dare claim that for that statement she had been given a commission by the young plumber of course). “Take care, Master P.,” she reminded the plumber, whom it was a time-honoured pleasantry to address as ‘Master,’ “to catch that nice look in Anita Rankin's eyes, those honouring winks. You know, what the world want to have most of all is a smile of a noble lady having owed the nobility to being a hard worker; that’s what I’ve asked you to give service not over utensils but novelties in plumbing draft or rather privileging the conduit with the smile-or debit- of flawing.” And since the phrase struck everybody as attention-worthy, she repeated it very loud, so as to make sure that as many as possible of the Rankin's guests should hear it, and even made use of a proper reason to draw the circle closer before each important word repeated twice. Lady Anita begged not to be introduced to everyone, and yet loved everyone that had been introduced to her even if they would had been chosen amongst old friends of the Rankin Family, say a barber called the one and only coiffeur of the district, whose timid nature similar to the students of the secondary school showing shyness, simplicity and good-nature... She had deprived herself of all the consideration due to her skill in philanthropy, her large fruitful working at the field and huge fortune from the point of fortune telling regarding the family projects shared by all the members of her distinguished family to which she belonged with all her heart. When she spoke to the coiffeur of the local celebrities, her words came with a confusion which was delightful to hear because she would feel that the barber's words indicated not so much a defect in his speech as a quality of his education, as it were a survival from his life era of younger ages induced innocence which he had never wholly outgrown as aging. All the diphthongs which he did not manage to pronounce seemed like soft whistles instead of the harsh voices to be heard solely because of which his gentle lips were incapable to utter properly. Summarizing the situation one might do well over the well known phrase "By asking to be made known to Lady Anita, one should make all guests reverse the usual form of introduction for instance saying, in fact, with emphasis on the distinction: 'Lady Rankin's friends, pray let me present to you our friend primary school teacher Mrs. so and so' and don't but let any astonishment aroused in herself a warmth of gratitude, which, however, the Rankin's family never disclosed to guests, since Lady Anita rather pleased them, and they did feel bound to provide him with friends. On the other hand the members of the Rankin's were extremely touched by one’s next request, for one felt that one must ask to be introduced to the Madam teacher’s family too. Madam teacher wore a bluish gray dress, as the invariable customs of local teachers, for she believed that a woman always looked well in bluish gray, and that nothing could be more distinguished; but her face was exceedingly pinkie, as it always was for some time after an introductory process. She bowed to the guests with free style, but drew herself up again with great dignity. As she was sensationally trained and well educated, and wasn't afraid of making mistakes in language usage and even pronunciation, she used purposely to speak in an distinct and non-garbling manner, thinking that she would never make a slip it would be in need of being buried in the surrounding confusion that no one could be certain whether she had actually made it or not; with the result that her talk was a sort of fluency, out of which would emerge, at rare intervals, those sounds and intonations of which she felt negative. The guests supposed not themselves entitled to poke a little mild fun at her in conversation with Philip Rankin, who, however, was at all amused over hosting guests.“Madam Teacher is such an excellent woman!” he has commented. “I assure you that she is not solely brilliant; but I could be the most ensured bailiff for your satisfaction that she can talk most charmingly both in the chattering group and when you are alone with her.” After an interval within the chat...“I am sure she can,” Anita hastened to vouch his speech as if conciliating him. “All I saw was that she struck me as ‘distinguished,’” she went on, isolating the remarks in her speech in the inverted commas of her tone, “and, after all, that is something of a compliment.” “Wait a moment,” said madam teacher, “now, this will surprise you; I could write quite delightfully. Haven't you never heard my quatrains to be composed by the musicians for the kindergarten children? It is admirable; eh, monsieur le plumber? Would you like me to ask-if any be here-the musician s here to play something, Lady Anita?”ctually she should count herself most fortunate...Madam teacher was beginning, a trifle pompously, when lady Anita broke in decisively. Having once heard her eulogy said, and never having forgotten that in general conversational type emphasising and the use of formal expressions were being spent, whenever she heard a solemnly declaration within the word used to affectionately, as the word ‘fortune feeding’ had been used just now by lady, she at once assumed that the speaker was being deliberately positive. And if, moreover, the same praising word happened to occur, also, in what she called an old ‘label’ or ‘placard’ however common it might still be in current usage, madam teacher jumped to the conclusion that the whole thing was feeding friendship, and not interrupted with the remaining words of the opposition, which she seemed to charge the introducer with having intended to introduce at that point, although in reality it had never elicited her mind.“Most prosperous lucky teacher for Zimbabwe!” Lady Anita recited musingly, never crying in a sharp voice nor shooting up arms with great vigour. Mr. Rankin could not help smiling. “What are all those good people very much happy over there? There could be no sign of course in these conditions of flaring melancholy down in your corner,” shouted Madam Teacher. “You don’t suppose everybody would find it amusing to be stuck up here by any humble teacher on the stool of repentance,” she went on peevishly...The members of the Rankin Family would rather be giggling like a spoiled child. Madam teacher was still sitting upon a high arm chair of curved ash-wood, which a guest from another province had given as a souvenir to lady Anita, and which she kept in her drawing-room! Although in appearance of such souvenirs suggested a museum form as the saying is, at the really good antique furniture which she had besides; but the members of the Rankin Family members made a point of keeping on view the presents which their loyalty were in the habit of making them from time to time, so that the souvenirs might have the pleasure of seeing them there when they came to the house. After having been too much praised she tried to persuade them to confine their eulogies dedicated to her flowery soul that might be withered over excess caressing and her sweetness open to be grown bad because of its non-sugar taste , which should at least the merit of mortality apt to being dried by touching repeated frequently; but she was never successful, and the house was gradually filled with a bundle of eulogies, exaggerated positive appraisal, yelling exclamations of half "HOLLO" half "BRAVO"s, cushions, presents, love induced innuendos, sending kisses in some constant repetition and a boundless incongruity of useless but indestructible admiration phrases.From this plausible rank she would take her high spirited part in the chat of the ‘respectful,’ and would revel in all their appraisal; but, since the fluency to her jaw, she had abandoned the effort involved in the chattering process hilariously, and had substituted a kind of symbolical gurgling show which signified, without endangering or even fatiguing her in any way, that she was to be laugh until she would cry. At the least position of the omnipotent ones she aimed by any of the circle against a ‘non-omnipotent’ or against a former member of the circle who was now relegated to the rank of ‘non-jolliness’ and to the utter happiness of lady Rankin, who had always made out that she was just as easily amused as her husband, but who, since her applause was the ‘real thing,’ was out of clapping nice hands in a moment, and so was overrun and exhausted by her device of a cordial and continuous hilarity she would utter a shrill cry, shut tight her bluish gray eyes, which were beginning to be shining over growing mature, and quickly, as though she had only just time to avoid some interesting sight...She would even be burying her face in her hands, which completely engulfed it, and prevented her from seeing anything at all, she would appear to be struggling for the sake of eradicating any baseless laughter. She should be after which, were she to give way to it, must inevitably inflame her infinite humanism. The qualification of the perplexed lady ought not to be in details so being stupefied with the gaiety of the ‘praised’ showered under the big drops of comradeship, embraced and assigned with the gift of aesthetics of The God, Madame teacher, would stand up still like a female eagle on her high rocky nest whose biscuit has been steeped in mulled beverages, then would sit aloft and sob with feminine feeling. Meanwhile Philip Rankin, after first asking madam teacher's permission to light a cigar to having got the reply: “No ceremony here, you understand; we’re all pals!”, went and begged the other guests to stand up and sing a song accompanied by the guitar. “Leave the guitarist alone; don’t invite him; he hasn’t come here to be disturbed,” cried Anita. “I won’t have any musician tormented over music.”Mr Rankin wondered as he wandering around "But why on earth should it bother her?” and sighing Lady Anita rejoined Mr. Rankin “ Madam teacher has never heard so much brilliant words having been used in playing her up, Why pardon me, not playing up but making compliments" The guests who have discovered complimenting there cried; "our guitar player ought to be going to play us the pianissimo arrangement of the hit song.”“No, not any arrangement!” the guitarist screamed, “I don’t want to be made to make noiseless or rather cool melodies until I get a cold in the head, and neuralgia around my ears, like that inflicted on Beethoven in the time past full of melancholy; mercy, I don’t intend to repeat that performance however you all might considerate in your wanting mood; it is easy to see that none of you would like me to have to stay in bed, for some hours” This sort of scenes, which was reanimated as often as the guitarist-or the pianist to play at the Rankin's piano-sat down to play, never failed to delight the audience, as though each of them were to be liking the composer even if whose musical piece was that they would listen for the first time, as the seducing power of the crowd present there originally styled to show an acute sensitiveness musical notes Either those in the position of being nearest or farthest to the player would attract the attention of the rest, who already were making the same thing in the hall full of musical notes as could be detected by their cries of ‘Hear, what a masterpiece!’ which, as in political debates, showed that something worth listening to was being remarked. And next time they could commiserate with those who had been prevented from coming the last time they had been around, and would assure them that the scenes of listening music had never been so exuberantly done down right.Then every musical notes were to become mute and Mr. Rankin would say “Well, serenity, all right, then,” for madam teacher and plumber should remark, “the piece might be played just in the metronome rate, say andante.” “Just the slow rhythmic allegro how he shall be in need of go on,” should cry the plumber's wife. “As if it weren’t just so slow for allegro to break every bone in one's body. The ‘virtuous player’ is really too priceless! Just as though, ‘in her adolescence,’ everybody would say ‘we need only have the cadence,’ or ‘just the finale’ of the peerless performance” The physician, however, urged the folk to let the pianist play, not because he supposed everyone to be malingering when he play either at piano or mastering guitar out of the distressing effects that music always had upon them, for he recognised the existence of certain melancholic psychological states but from his habit, common to many physicians! He who couldn't be tired of music said at once reflecting the format of a prescription as soon as it appeared to open the gates of healing a sickness, what seemed to him far more important than melodies, for the success of some social gathering at which he should be present then of the main purpose or rather of which the patient whom he had urged for once to forget diarrhoea or vascular headache viz. migraine having formed an essential factor. “You won’t be ill this time!" It-the time remarked there-might be of summer-early or late-and he added " be cautious", seeking at the same time to subdue the patient's mind by the magnetism of a medic's gaze. O course if one would be ill, he will cure her or him.”Had the patient wish to learn if the physician would prescribe anything efficient it should be asked, "really?” He spoke as though, with so great a favour in store for the patient, there was nothing for it but to capitulate, and yet to the highest probability, too, by hint of saying that one was going to be treated so that one had worked oneself into a state in which one forgot, occasionally, that it was all only a one of the ordinary scenes, and regarded things, quite sincerely, from an hope hunter’s point of view. For it may often be remarked that the ones waiting to be treated grow weary of having the frequency of their attacks depend always on their own defence in avoiding them, and like to let themselves think that they are cordial to hope everything that they most enjoy doing, although they are not always ill after doing it, provided only that they place themselves in the hands of a higher authority which, without putting them to the best convenience, can and will, by uttering a word or by some big administering a tablet P.C, set them once again upon their feet. Lady Rankin had gone to sit on a laminate covered sofa near the cabinet where the guitar would be stored, saying to her husband, “I have nicely my own little corner for piano, haven’t I?” And Lady Rankin, seeing himself by himself upon a chair, would make him get up. “You’re not at all apt to be here; go along and sit by the contractor introduced to us by the plumber; they could make room for you there, can’t you, dear?” And he might be more docile while replying “What charming welcome!” he might add in order to admire the politeness before he changed his place wishing to be much more polite. He would remark also “I am glad you appreciate my new place near to the newest guest,” within the evaluation. Then another remark, “And I warn you that if you expect ever to see me in another place you may as well abandon the idea at once. It could never made any more like it although these little chairs, too, are perfect marvels so that everybody can look at them in a moment. The curves symbols in each of the eucalyptus mouldings correspond to the figures of the tapestry on the them... The guests of The Rankin Family know, you combine amusement with instruction when they look at the new folk that would be introduced; everybody can promise them a delightful time, The members of the Rankin Family assure them. They ought just to look at the little border around the edges; here, they should look, the little concerts on a fruit and spirits based background in this one, the coke and the banana. It is well drawn, isn't it? What might they say? They would think they knew a thing or two about design! Doesn’t it make everybody's mouth water, the orange juice? Lady Rankin's husband makes out that she is not fond of fruits too much, because she eats less than her guests do. And yet not a bit of it, she is greedier than any of her guests, but she have no need to fill her mouth with them when one could feed on them with one's eyes. She wondered: "What are you doc laughing at now, pray?" Should she ask the physician; would he like to tell her that those grapes act on him like a regular doping. A lot of guests would rather come to the Rankin's-nearly-for cures; they took their own little beverage cure here. But, Mr. Rankin who haven’t had to run away without feeling the great golden impulses in their hearts. Couldn’t it be seen an exquisite impotence? No, not with your whole hope like that; feel them property!” One might try to learn “If the guitarist is going to start playing about with his glittering look,” said the ex mayor of the district S..., “none shouldn’t be depraved get any music to-night.” Lady Rankin would reflect “Be quiet, you dear ones, and yet we poor women,” she would go on, “are surmising that they should be forbidden plea far less voluptuous than this. There is no heart for musical heart in the world as soft as these. None. If the guitarist did him the honour of being madly jealous . . . come, you seem at least the most polite. Don’t say that none never have been jealous while running into a great musician!”If one would dare to oppose “But, my dear, I have said absolutely nothing. Look here, monsieur le physician, I call you as a witness; did I utter any word against the guitarist?” Lady Anita were to begin, out of politeness, to finger the piano in the corner far from that one therein the musician played flamingos, and did not like to stop the quarrel. Then Mr. Rankin should stop them “Come along; you can later arrange another dispute of music deeper that of present moment, yes later or rather for the time being; now it is you that are going to be putting forward the evidence you expose to be stressed letter to letter in a way caressing the ear; you’ll like that, I think. Here’s the young guitarist who will take charge of that.” Actually after the guitarist had played, Mr. Rankin felt and showed more interest in him than in any of the other guests, for the following reason: The time before that dinner, say in an evening party, he had heard the guitarist mastering a piece of music composed to be played by two instruments-violin and piano-and at first he had appreciated only the material quality of the sounds which those instruments secreted within the touches on a guitar. And yet it must have been a source of keen pleasure when the successive musical notes came, regarding the violin-part, soft, non-dominating, substantial and subduing to the whole composition, for one have suddenly perceived, where it was availing over the flowing tide of the melody alongside the mass of the part of the piano, uniform, in a super accord with the other partition of the guitar piece having been composed after, protecting the level, and breaking everywhere in melody like the blue denim waves of an ocean, bronzed and charmed into a major modality by the diminished light of the dining hall of The Rankin Family. Moreover at a given moment, without being able to distinguish any clear outline of the musical theme from the bass engine, or to give a name to what was pleasing both the audience and the player, purified from the fear of being suddenly enraptured, henceforth he had tried to perform searching in the musical notes treasure of his or rather in his memory full of sound phrases and harmony within which he knew not "no result found" that had just been to be played...Seemingly he had felt the burden upon his shoulders of being opened and expanded his soul, just as the fragrance of the roses lost in his childhood, monitored upon the wet cake of the evening moist enough, having the power of dilating his nostrils to inhale the ozone following late afternoon showers. It was never because of ignorance of virtuosity evaluations and yet owing to his own musical arts induced situation of performance that he have been able to receive so much sophisticated an impression, one of those that are, nonetheless, one's only purely voice of art impressions, not limited in their extent, thoroughly original, and non-transient from the point of apt to be moulding into any other kind. Although it was an impression of order, not vanishing in an instant, was, so to speak, a sensational behaviour. Eventually the musical notes which he heard at such moments tend to spread out before the eyes of the guests, not superficially but greater or smaller according to the major or minor tonalities; to trace designs wherein thinly educated Turkish people might found only Arabic culture. Besides to give the well cultured nations it should give the sensation of breath or tenacity of flowers, and stability of joyful hope alongside the notes themselves having vanished before those sensations have developed sufficiently to escape submersing into the bog rich within the flora as of sedges, heaths, and sphagnum within which those should follow... Obviously simultaneous notes have already begun to awaken in us.( See and Hearken please: Prof MES SOLZHENITSOF at DAVİD's Harp) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TiXSd_OpwZE In order to remind one of the definite perception that would continue to smother all parasitic sounds in its molten liquidity the melodic motifs which now and then emerge, barely discernible for one must need to observe through ear plunging again, and yet disappearing or to be drown; recognised only by the particular kind of pleasure which they might be distilled, possible to be described, to be recollected, to be named! If one's memory, like a white collar worker who toils at the laying down of firm foundations beneath the tumult of the daily life's waves by fashioning for one facsimiles of those fugitive phrases, enable one to compare and to contrast them with those that follow each other in sharps, flat, and generally the main sounds do, re, mi etcetera, etcetera... So it might be hard regarding to delicious sensation, which Mr. Rankin had experienced, lived forward, before his memory had furnished him with an immediate transcript of violation in his farm that his identity was opened entirely be tortured, briefly, it is actually true, and provisional, but one on which he had kept his eyes fixed while the violation continued, so effectively that, when the same impression suddenly returned, it was no longer unbearable. Mr. Rankin was able to satiate himself with the music-its extent, with the symmetry in its arrangement, in the notation of its, in the imagination power of its composer... He had before that guitarist that definite object which was no longer pure music, but rather dying the sounds, architecting through the musical notes, thinking with the sounds, and which called the main piece of music to the mind, say completing the association by means of musical style. Eventually he had been able then to discern the main theme, to the utmost lucid hearing, say clearly from the point of imagining the sound as something in three dimensions concretely. He would then suppose that a phrase which emerged for a few moments from the shadow of sound made of soil as the human that could hold out to him an invitation to same shadows, of whose existence, before hearing it, one could never dream, into which one should feel that nothing but this phrase could initiate one.One without any rhythmical movement the performance would lead here and there, towards a state of happiness caused by defeating the danger that couldn't give harassment, and yet intelligibly was to make one that off base but basically very important or rather vital importance induced a set of psychology including both the similar events in the past and in the future, apt to be non-clearly, non-vague yet deeply showing sensibility fittingness to be indicated. Then, suddenly having reached a certain point from which one was prepared to follow it, after pausing for a moment, the melody might abruptly change its mood if not modal structure, and in a fresh movement, more touching, well formed, anti melancholy, fluent if not incessant, highly testable, it could bear one off with it towards a vista of joys half known before when it should vanish for its time namely the past have had to come to an end as every past should have got an end. One ought to hope of course, with a passionate longing for melody, nostalgia, that one might find it again, a new time in the past. And reappear that procedure did, though without speaking to one more clearly, bringing one, indeed, a pleasure not less as profound it should be as it could be fancied. And yet when one was once more at home one needed it, one was like a professional listener into whose life a virtuous, whom one might have seen for a moment passing by, has brought a new form of aesthetics, which could not only strengthen and enlarge one's own power of perception, without one's knowing even whether one has ever to listen to the masterpieces again whom one loved already, although one knew nothing of it, not even the work number or rather opuses. Indeed that passion for an excerpt of a musical masterpiece seemed, in the first few periods, to be bringing into one’s life the possibility of a sort of anti-aging. If one had so long since ceased to direct one's course towards any ideal listening, and had confined himself to the pursuit of the satisfactions based on scales and cadences only , that he had come to accept as the main source and course, though without ever formally stating one's belief even to oneself, that one would remain all one's life in that memo conditions, which novelties in album world as that of M. Jackson's predecessor Tina Turner alone could alter, and more than this, since one's mind no longer entertained any classical compositions or rather their recorded albums lacking energy of novelty, one had ceased to believe in the reality out of his prejudices. So one must had grown also into the habit of taking refuge in trivial performances, which allowed one to set on one side matters of fundamental importance just as he had never stopped to ask himself whether he would not have listened better by not going into musicians' rostrums, knowing very well that if one had accepted an invitation one must put in an appearance, and that afterwards, if one did not actually call, one must at least leave cards upon one's spouse; so in his conversation one took care never to express with any warmth a personal opinion about a thing, but instead would supply facts and details which had a value of a sort in themselves, and excused one from showing how much he really knew or knew not. Although all guests of the Rankin Family would be extremely precise about the virtuosity of the guitarist in the excerpts written for piano, the notes of a modulation and cadence, and the opuses of the masterpieces. Sometimes, in spite of themselves, they wouldn't let themselves go so far as to utter a criticism of a work of musical art, or of some one’s interpretation in listening music, and yet they would muffle words in a tone of personal respect, as though they did not altogether associate themselves with what one of them was saying. At times, like every welcome induced guests whom, all of perpetually, without any change of air and surroundings, or a new style of treatment, or, as sometimes happens, an organic change in their little but modern community like TLN where one could follow SOLZHENITSOF, not spontaneous but rich in paraphrases, would seem to have so far recovered from their malady type loneliness that they might begin to envisage the possibility, hitherto beyond all hope, of starting to lead a wholly cordial behaviours of their life, so one must have found in oneself, in the memory of the prelude that one had heard, in certain other symphonic excerpts which one had made people play over to one, to see whether one might, perhaps, discover one's favourite theme among all the composition, the presence of one of those invisible realities in which one had ceased to believe, but to which, as though the music had had upon the moral barrenness from which one was to be carried by one's own musing or rather melody based ecstasy a sort of procreative influence, one should be also conscious once again of a musical zest, almost a power indeed, of the power to consecrate one's life.Having managed to find out whose composition it might be that the guests had heard played, they have been able to glaze at the musical notes, and finally should forget the trivial speculations they had guessed. They had indeed, in the course of the coming dinners, encountered several of the people who had been at the party with them, and had questioned them; but most of them had either arrived after or left before that opus X. was played! Of course there would be some ones who had indeed been in the house, but had gone out of the dinner saloon and taken place at another corners of the mansion to talk there where one might call other premises... As for those who had stayed to listen and yet had no clearer impression than the rest shouldn't listen it again. As for their hosts-Lady Rankin and Mr. Rankin, they knew that the masterpieces were not recently published works in another saying the classical excerpts which the musicians whom they had engaged for the evening had asked to be sensing heartily in listening to that to be played; but, as those last were now on tour somewhere, Mr. Rankin could learn nothing further. Obviously Philip Rankin and his son who had to be destined to rescue the piano when the officers had stormed arbitrarily the Rankin's home, of course, a number of musical friends were there. And yet, as they could in full colours of the incident recall the exquisite and inexpressible pleasure which the fragments the composition had satiated them, and could see, still, before their eyes the forms that it had traced in outline, they were quite incapable of humming over to each other the melody so that at last, they ceased to think of it. Day in and day night, at The Rankin’s, scarcely had any musician intended not to play when, suddenly, after the extra flats and sharps or the notes of cadence remembered clearly just held on through the whole stave, she or he would see it approaching first pianissimo then forth from underneath those favourable resonance, which was prolonged and stretched out over the melody or rather the composition, like hissing of musical sounds, to veil the mystery of the composers having given birth to them in order to be recognised, secretly, whispering, articulating, the counter-point modality based on polyphonic phrase that the audiences had loved, and recognized that the composition was so peculiarly itself, and the player twice sophisticated and tasteful as the composer had been so personally a charming creator, whose masterpiece nothing else could have replaced, that the music lovers felt as though they had met, in a concert hall the music fan friend’s most favourite concert hall, an audience whom during the whole performance the audience had seen and admired! One should recognise that once, in the Music Hall of the town, after having despaired of ever listening some pieces again. It is obvious that finally all the major or minor scales notes, cadences, flats and sharps should have withdrew and vanished, and yet the sound induced memories of the Rankin's guests would be pointing, directing the music lovers to be wandering within the flows of the sound's fragrance, leaving upon everyone’s feature a reflection of the smile based on melodies. Then, at last, one could ask the name of one's fair unknown theme and was told that it was the andante movement of Paganini's sonata not for the piano and yet played by the popular guitarist of The Rankin's who might held it safe, could have it again to himself, at home, as often as he would, could protect the copies of the composition its visual richness and open its secret to be divulged so that, when the guitarist would be absent the pianist should perform it... If any performance couldn't have been finished one of the players, say the guitarist or the pianist might crossed the hall and thank the music lovers before having played the most brilliant phrases with a vivacity which delighted Philip Rankin first. What after that? Okay the routine dialogues “Isn’t he charming?” one lady would ask another guest, “doesn’t the player just understand it, if the sonata could be perceived by every audience perfectly performed, by the great wretch pianist or-no matter-guitarist of ours? One never could dream, could you, that a musical instrument could be made to express all that? Upon my word, there’s everything in these instruments except the guitar or piano!" Reciprocally reply made in that instant: " Everybody here should have been caught out every time they hear it; they should have thought they were listening to an orchestra though it’s better to listen to virtuous such virtuosos , really, in an orchestra, to reach the point much more completely.” After the last cadence faded away the musicians alongside the hosts used to bend over the guests as they, smiling and underlining each of their words as though they were making an salutation them saying: “You are most generous to us.” And while lady Rankin would be saying to her husband, “Let's run and fetch them icy cold coke; it’s to be well planned!” before she began to tell guests how she had fallen in love with Philip Rankin. Eventually the guests should get down the dark red ingredients of the icy cold coke glasses then they might whisper into the ear of their hostess that one glass couldn't be satisfactory, and the hosts who were to call out each other, “Well! It may look us as though someone was saying nice things while requesting some more beverage, dear!” then replying each other again, “Yes, very nice,” for it should be found simplicity delightful. Then probably one would ask for some information about that fiesta; what else one had done, and at what period in life one had migt composed that sort of organisations! What meaning has been from the debut of the narration henceforth purposed over the little phrases belonging both to music and other humanly behaviours could have had for The Rankin's family tragedy, that was what SOLZHENITSOF wanted most to make known. But none of these parts of the main narration which predominated to admire audiences alongside musician when the writer had said that listening to compositions was really charming, and Lady Rankin's guests had exclaimed, “We quite believe it! Charming, indeed! But you don’t dare to confess that you don’t know all compositors' masterpieces that were interpreted here; we have the right to know them!” And the plumber's wife and madam teacher had gone on with, “Ah, yes, they are very fine bit of works, aren’t they? Yes, of course, if we want something ‘sophisticated’ something ‘obliged to be mad clear,’ but, we mean to say, it makes a very great impression on us artists.”, and none of them seemed ever to have asked the interpreter these questions, for each of them was able to oppose if needed . Had one or two particular remarks been made by Philip Rankin on his favourite parts of musical composition, “Do you know, that’s an interesting thing; I had ever noticed it; I may as well tell you that I don’t much care about scrutinizing parts of artistic productions just as peering at celestial bodies through a telescope! One pricking oneself on pin-points of difference might waste time splitting hairs in, say a concert hall...Why not? Well, it could be a habit of ours, that’s all,” Anita Rankin replied, " O Gosh" while her guests gazed at her without opening their mouth with admiration while Mr. Rankin yearned to be able to follow her as she skipped lightly from one stepping-stone to another... All the more her stock of ready-made phrases in explaining a commentary on musical phrases ought to be seen as a marvellous skill. Both Philip, however, and Anita Rankin, with a kind of common sense which should be shared by many people of artistic commentary class, would always take care not to express an opinion, or to pretend to admire a piece of music which they would confess to each other, once they were safely at home, that they too understood than they could understand the art of ‘Master’ Guitarist. Eventually inasmuch as the public can recognise the charm, the beauty, even the outlines of nature save in the most, yes, most platitude impressions of an art which they have gradually assimilated, while an original artist starts by modifying those impressions, so madam teacher and the physician from the point of this respect were growing much more capable of finding, either in compositions or in the performance of the player, what constituted harmony, for them, in music writing and beauty in playing melody not generally but exclusively. Actually the audiences may appear to the readers that when the pianist plays the composition, as though he is touching haphazard from the strings a medley of notes which bear no relation to the musical mainframe to which they themselves seems to be accustomed! And that the player, instead of producing sounds simply flings some colourful strips haphazard upon the fabrics in a factory. When, on one of these artistic acts, they are able to distinguish a satisfactory apt to human zest! So that they always would find it not coarsened and nor vulgarised (that is to say lacking all the elegance of the conservatory instructions through whose listening they themselves are in the habit of seeing the people enjoying real, living sensations, who pass them in the street and devoid of truth, as though the ordinary people had not known how the human sensible heart was constructed, or that a man's iris was not, ordinarily, pink. And yet, when the ‘guests’ were scattered out of earshot, the plumber felt that the opportunity was too good to be missed! And so while the guests should be adding a final word of commendation of the art induced chat like a champion swimmer who jumps into the water, so as to teach swimming, but chooses a moment when there are many people looking on: “Yes, indeed; he’s what they call a champion!” everybody might exclaim, with a sudden determination. Lady Rankin discovered no more than that the recent dispute had caused a great stir among the most advanced multi disciplined ones of the guests, besides that it was still well known to the general public. “I know some ones, quite well, called artist ,” said she, thinking of the all music-masters, painters in within the world's intellectuals who had taught us. “Perhaps that’s the people!” cried Philip Rankin. “Oh, yes!” doc burst out laughing. “If you had ever seen them for a moment you would appreciate them.” “Then to put no question to be solved as a problem?” madam teacher suggested.“But it may well be some other great artist who produce, compose, write besides teaching,” she went on. “That would be good enough; but, after all, there is no reason why a genius shouldn’t have a student who is a future celebrity. And if that should be so, I swear there’s no known or unknown form of teaching I wouldn’t undergo to get the any genius to teach how to paint as Picasso” The lumber's wife understood that all composers-composing music, gathering the concoct of ideas, mixing the simple colours to reach supra-natural dyes-were seriously creative at the moment, and that Lady Rankin should spend her life in order to train her guests sense and sensibilities. “What!” cried Philip Rankin, “Do people still call in every genius?” Madam teacher simpered “Ah! Mr. Rankin, Let's not forget that we are speaking your colleagues! One should say indeed, each of them was one of the masters. The guitarist had heard, somewhere, that no genius was threatened with the loss of the reason anyhow. And he insisted that signs of this could be detected in every melodies, lines, portraits in the masterpieces. This remark did not strike the guests of lady Rankin as ridiculous; rather nor it puzzled them. They should treat every guest of the Rankin Family for, since a purely artistic work contains none of those rational findings attained to without any interruption or confusion which, in colloquial language, might be a proof of excess sanity, so idealizing sanity in the dispute regarding to compositions or tableaus and the like would be seeming to the disputers as mysterious a thing as the sanity of a race horse, although instances might be being observed within these kind of considerations. So one would prefer to offer the omnipotent “Do speak to me about ‘your favourite art masters’; you know ten times as much as one does!” The it might be possible that Lady Anita would answer doc or plumber's wife, in the tone of a woman who has the courage of her convictions, and is quite ready to stand up to anyone who disagrees too much strongly with somebody. At times Lady Rankin would remark, "Somehow, you do help your patients!” and Mr Rankin would add to it “But, my dear, he should do it in his clinic” The doc might smile with sugary sardonic expression. “If a sick person prefers to be healed at the hands of one of a doc it would far more smart to be able to say" should reflect he, "Yes I would like to be given a good cure", and he ought to expect the classical vouching “Oh, indeed! More smart, is it?” And yet he should think that "there would be fashions, currently, in illness, are there?" having knew that there might be something . . . "O Gosh, you do make me laugh!”! The guests of Rankin, as a matter of fact, screamed, suddenly, burying their face in their hands crying “And here was one, naive thing, talking quite seriously, and never seeing that one was pulling our leg.” As for the majority of the guests, finding it rather a strain to start disputes over art induced matters, they would content with eating nuts and drinking coke puffing out a sound of joy from their refreshed mouths, and while they would reflect happily that they could ever again hope to keep pace with the hosts they might be in the artistic considerations or mirth across the field of happiness. “Do you know; we like all friends of ours” would say Mrs. Rankin, later, when some guests should be bidding her good night. And yet one must remember that they are so unaffected, quite charming. If they’re all like that, the friends we want to bring here, by all means bring them.” Then Mr. Rankin ought to remark that Mrs. Rankin had not failed, all the same, to appreciate both the guitarists and the audiences, “I dare say she felt a little strange, amicable lady, my dear Anita...” One could remember what Lady Anita suggested as she did always, “Our guests can expect me to catch the tone of the house the first time I come; like my husband-dear Philip who has been one of our little ‘amicable family’ now for decades." Actually he first time doesn’t count; it’s just for looking round and finding out things. My guests, he understands all right, he’s to join you in the future too. If you might call for him and bring him.” “Yes, he does want that.”

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 03-29-2017 at 04:31 PM.

  7. #322
    Registered User mesolzhenitsy's Avatar
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    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof

    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE

    It goes without saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologize
    Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/arti...#ixzz4Z1yWgPw5

    (Continuing from the last paragraph above)


    Madam teacher says “O Gosh, very well then; let him do just as he likes. Provided he doesn’t fail us...not a moment, never.” Greatly to Lady Rankin surprise, he, actually, never failed them. He would go to meet them to satisfy their instant needs, no matter where, at country side or at some malls (that they went there much at first, for the season had ever begun), and more frequently at the play, in which Lady Rankin and her guests delighted. One evening, when she and her guests were dining at home, he heard her delightful statements that she had every permits which would save her the trouble of waiting at doors and standing in crowds! So the guests and the hostess say how useful it would be to them at every nights, and what a nuisance it could had been while there not any probability having one, in all the events they used to run into. Eventually Philip Rankin never spoke of the Rankin Family's distinguished friends, but only of such as might be regarded as reconsidered, whom, therefore, he thought it lavish in protection, and in not arbitrarily constructed taste to conceal; while he frequented the libraries, concert halls he had come to include, in the latter class, all his friends in the official world of the excessively liberals, and so broke in, without thinking: “I’ll see to that, all right. You shall have it in time for the regular revival regarding to the little dinner concerts or miniature exhibitions. We shall be dining with together as we used to do or as it would happen, at here.” One might roar "What’s that here” in a voice of thunder, and add " not at here but at our place!" Mr Rankin would answer "Yes, at ours,” feeling a little relieved at the effect which one's consideration had produced. “Are you often taken like that?” madam teacher could ask, but without mock-seriousness. As a rule, once an explanation had been given, physician would say: “Ah, excellent; that’s all right, then,” after which he would show not the least trace of emotion linked to negativity. And yet every time The Rankin's new words, in order to be being in the usual calming effect, had, of course, that of non heating, perpetually, to boiling-point the guests' astonishment at the discovery that Rankin Family with whom they themselves would be actually sitting at dinner table, no man who had no traditional position, with honours or distinction of any sort, should be on visiting terms with each other. “What’s that you say? Mr. Plumber? Do you know that conduit technology makes progress?” Philip Rankin making remarks, in the witty and incredulous tone of a constable on duty at the table, when a stranger has come up and asked to get acquaintance; for learning from their words and manner about modern progress in the ways of life, say, saying ‘it is a case of,’ having assured the weak conscience technologically that one would will be admitted at once, and points the way to the reception cordially.One knows not them indeed slightly; one has some friends in common! One dares add that one of those friends are madam teacher, physician, the plumber and his wife. Apart from those the guests are the neighbours of The Rankin Family. Anyhow, one is very free with their invitations, and, they assure one, their dinner-parties are not mostly amusing; they’re very simple affairs, too, one knows; even if more than twenty at table... One would goes on, trying desperately to cut out everything that seemed to show off one's relations with Philip Rankin in a light too dazzling for the new guests’ eyes. Nonetheless whereupon one, at once is to be conforming in one's mind to the literal interpretation of what The Rankin Family is saying, decided that invitations from them are very little sought after, are sent out, in fact, into the sophisticated affairs, and from that moment one never seems at all surprised to hear that The Rankin is always at the guests' service; one would even feel happier for a man who had to go to dinner-parties which, one oneself admits, wouldn't be a boring one.As an aside Lady Rankin used to reiterate" O Gosh ; that’s quite all right then,” and Philip Rankin would rather say, in the tone of a climate fanatic who has been suspicious in the way of global warming and global drought accompanied by floods up to now, but, after hearing her exclamations, vouching every words to let the guests proceeding in their amusement without troubling to examine her key word-Gosh in her exclamation luggage having believed could find it amusing and yet giving a mirth warranty in its implicit meaning. Those dining parties of The Rankin's Family; indeed, should be very good of every neighbours to go to them!” would say, who regarded the couple of Lady and Mr. Rankin only as the pioneers against ‘boring nights’ to be especially loved, since they had at The Rankin's presence "joy" by means of sedative ingredients in the composition of The Rankin's behavioural model, and even of benign impulsion, which, if employed to vitiate their ‘faith,’ while they might easily make them ‘the highest possibility’, and It seems, they're as fruitful as a post.One could fix one's opinion about the family and the guests as remarking "Upon my word! Then nothing can be much fun for me, going there.” Is there any note of pity sounded in one’s voice? NOP! And yet it struck more by the number of the guests of those fiestas if one would describe everything as intimate so that one would inquire briskly, not so much out of idle curiosity as in one's meal based zeal, and considerations regarding to artistic debates. But so great and glorious a figure was lady Anita in the eyes of madam teacher that neither the modesty of Mrs. Rankin nor the spite of Mr. Rankin could ever wholly efface that all impressions, and one never would sit down to dinner with the members of The Rankin Family without asking anxiously, “Do you think we shall see lady Rankin here next evening? Is one a personal friend of The Rankin’s couple. One suppose that means she’s what you’d call a ‘lady’?” In the near past one even went to the length of offering The Rankin a card of invitation to The World Environment Day claiming, “This will let you in, and anyone you take with you,” one explained, “but pets are not admitted. I’m just informing you, you understand, because some friends of mine went there once with their lovely dogs and cats, and for they who hadn’t been told, and there was the devil to pay they could not admit easily” As for Philip Rankin, he did not fail to observe the distressing effect upon Anita Rankin of the discovery that The Rankin family had influential friends of whom they had never spoken everything linked to humanism.If no planning to be made to go anywhere, it should be at the Rankin's that the oldest retired soldier of the region would find the above mentioned nucleus assembled, he might have been appeared there without any exception in the evenings, and if he could hardly ever accept their invitations to dinner...He could dine with the other guests there, and yet he would rather hear the suggestion of Philip Rankin but what about lady Rankin, an that’s quite simple to obtain both. He should need only say that his dress might not ready, or if that the taxicab would have come late there might always be some excuse. How charming of The Rankin's invitations. But the old soldier used to confess to himself that, if he could make, every time, the unique host and hostess feel by consenting to meet him at the dinner table that there were other pleasures which he should prefer to that of the other guests' company, then the desire that he felt for them would be all the longer in reaching the point of satiety. Besides, as he ought to be addressed as elder soldier instead of the old soldier he infinitely preferred to the Rankin’s style of invitation that similar to a blue collar worker's good Sunday souvenir, as fresh and healthy as a tulip-is it the word?-with whom he happened to be simultaneously in loyalty, he preferred to spend the first part of every invitation induced evening with them, knowing that he was sure to see them early forward on. For the same reason, he would never allow Mr. Rankin or lady Rankin not to invite him to their house, to take him on to the guests haunted dinner table. The elder soldier used to wait, not far from their reaching point, at a most joyful corner of his home; say, his host and hostess, knew where to stop and wait; their invitation would jump in beside him, and hold him in his heart until the invitation drew up at the Rankin's. He would like to chat about everything but over little speaking, and a lot of listening in the drawing-room; and there, while lady Rankin, pointing to the icy coke bottles serviced for them-the guests which had sent from the dining hall, saying: “I am happy with you if you enjoy to eat and to drink here!” and would send them to the place for keeping drinking beverages, by the side of Philip Rankin, and the guitarist would play to them to complete the happiness of the dear guests, and for no one else that little phrase by the conversation which might be, so to speak, the march of the friendship lovers. He is to explain, always, with a sustained shutting up from the listener part, which, for several topics, would be companied, and opened all the background to new subjects; till suddenly every points should seem to be drawn aside, and just as in those arguments presented by madam teacher and the physician! The Rankin's dining hall is not too much illuminated where the romance based subjects are audible while disputed through well pronounced words set back a long way through the narrow framework of a half-opened door to be heard easily or rather non-infinitely in the remote corners, in the colours of quite different speculations, at time reminding wavy acoustics curtains velvety with the radiance of some intervening fez red light, while the little phrases heard in tumult, within the association of dancing over the pastoral, interpolated, episodic environments, belonging to art and thought lover world, and where everything to be passed, with simple and immortal movements, scattering on every side the domain of romance or its grace, smiling ineffably still; but the elder soldier would think that he could now discern in it some disenchantment. It would be seemed to be aware how useful, how fully interesting should be the happiness to which it might show the way in it would be a grace that there could be, indeed, something definitely open to be achieved, and completed in itself, like the mood of philanthropic engagement which follows a source of concrete harvest. But little would be that matter to him; he should observe the guests of The Rankin's Family looking upon the musical notes not less a painting its own colour-as what it might express, had, in fact, expressed to a certain art lover, anywhere in the world, existed, when it should be composed, and would express to all those who should hear it played in centuries to come-than as a symbol or an amulet token of their love, which made even the members of The Rankin Family and their virtuous guitarist think of his first darling and, at the same time, of himself! The social circle of The Rankin's Family which bound him to the others by a lasting tie; and whimsically he at that point had might not have abandoned the idea of getting some virtuosity to play over to him the whole musical notes and the colours of all painters, of which he still knew no more than some passages, tinting senses, the shadows that could hue. Once lady Rankin asked him “Why do you want the rest?”, adding “Our little bit; that’s all we need.” Philip Rankin would go farther; without making the memories agonised by the reflection, at the moment when it passed by him, too much near and yet so infinitely remote, that. The plumber and his wife would cough while it was addressed to their ears, that they couldn't make them perplexed of which knew not them, they would regret, almost, that it had a meaning of its own, an intrinsic and unalterable neat! As for the ultra modern beauty, foreign to themselves, just as in the giant diamonds given to them, or even in the letters written to them by the art and thought masters with whom they should be in love...He finds fault with the ‘shadowy meaning’ of a composition, or with the words of a sentence because they are not modernized exclusively from the spirit of a fleeting intimacy and of a ‘asymmetric’ It would happen, as often as not, that he should have stayed so long outside, with his least sensation, before going to the Rankin Family that, as soon as the little phrase had been rendered by the guitarist. Elder soldier would discover that it was almost time for him to go dine with the other guests. Eventually he used to take the other guests' back as far as the door of his forgotten little garrison near to the border, but behind the front. And it is perhaps on this account, and so as not to demand the monopoly of 'the omnipotent' of art and thought , and their favours, that he sacrificed the pleasure of seeing them frequently in the special evenings.Of arriving with other guests at The Rankin's to the exercise of this privilege having around all friends or rather amicable souls, for which he is grateful, of their leaving together; a privilege which he values all the more because, thanks to it, he would have the feeling that no one else would see them, no one would thrust himself between them, no one could prevent him from remaining with them in spirit, after he should leave them for the night so that, night after night, he would be taken home in another guest's car...And one night, after he had got down, and while he stood at the gate and murmured “Till next evening, then!” he should turn impulsively from them, plucked a leaf from a rose bush its last lingering flower in the tiny garden which flanked the pathway from the street to The Rankin's house, and as he would go back to his routine thrust it into his hand. He would hold thought and art based chat pressed to his sense and wit during the drive on the way to dinner invitation, and when, in due course, the flower should not wither, and yet something very precious would survive, in a secret consideration of his intimate circle of friends. He would escort, at times some guests to the gate, but no farther. For many times would he have gone inside to take part in the informal processes of such vital importance in his life of ‘the dinner chat’ besides the loneliness and emptiness of those political (consisting, almost entirely, of low-range wittiness, self-contained but not non engaged, their monotony interrupted here and there by the dark quarrels of some sinister little phenomena, at once an actual document and a survival from the days when the arena would be still one of dilemmas), the restless outputs which could lie on the vacation beds or cling to the branches of the art and thought platforms, the careless disarray of the cleverness, the assertion, in mankind-made cosmos, of a situation of mind that might be all combined to add an element of mystery to the warmth of The Rankin's.Passing by chat room adjacent to dinner hall which looked out to the back over another little field running parallel with its, he would consider the environment that should open over a straight vista to lightly dark painted walls, from which should be hedges like oriental draperies, ornamented with Arabic beads, and a huge space technology lantern, suspended by a silky steel chain from the top to the bottom adopted by the European civilization encircled by some places like kitchen, drawing-rooms, and the like large or small. These all might be entered through a narrow lobby, the wall of which, chequered with the wood and glass based trellis such as one see meeting on the point of gates, highly gilded, and lined from end to end by a phenomena in which bloomed, as though in a greenhouse besieged by large chrysanthemums, at modern times not uncommon still, though by no means so large as the white whale of Herman Melville recited since the debut of the growing love of and for The Rankin's. If Philip Rankin is irritated, as a rule, by the sight of those chattering figures, which had then been ‘the Good Samaritan’ in the district for about a decade, but it would please him, on this occasion, to see the gloom of the little chat group or rather guests shot with rays of violet and green and white by the witty remarks similar to fragrant petals of those roses of humanism, which kindle their flaring fires in the smoky atmosphere of seasonal evenings. The wife of the plumber would salute the other guests in a dinner-gown of pink silk, which should not leave her arms bare. Eventually she had made them sit down beside her in one of the many mysterious little retreats which had been contrived in the various recesses of the room, sheltered by enormous shadows of the art and thought people as if coming out of pots of porcelain pots boiling under the influence of abstract dispute. Amongst the guests she should say at once, “You’re not comfortable there; wait a minute, I’ll arrange things for you,” and madam teacher would help her with a titter of laughter! The infinite art and thought debate of complacency of which implied that some little invention of The Rankin's invitations being brought into scene at the dinner table, the physician had installed before behind his head to share the abstract zest and he pummelled and buffeted as though determined to lavish on the guests all his riches but when his colleagues to make them should have begun to come into the medium of the debate, bringing, one after another, the innumerable proposals or themes which contained, mostly, in his brain and heart similar to the singly glistening pieces upon the other pieces of furniture as upon so many altars, rekindling under the light of economy induced lamps, already almost nocturnal, of early winter evenings, while the glow of a sunset still more lasting, more roseate... Doc's attitude ought to be accepted more human filling, perhaps, with romantic wonder the thoughts of some solitary guest! Doc, occasionally wandering in the road below and bringing to a standstill before the windows of The Rankin's would think of the mystery of the human presence there which those winking twilight windows at once would reveal and screen from sight, and he should keep an eye sharply fixed on the shadows, to see whether they set each of the fluorescence lamps up in the place appointed something significant as a vision. At times he felt that, if he were to put even one of them where it ought not to be, the general effect of dining hall would be destroyed, and that the portraits on the walls, which rested upon a sloping easel draped with plush, would not catch anyone's attention. And so, with feverish impatience, he followed the shadows’ clumsy movements, impressing on him severely when he passed too close to a pair of hedge headstones, which he made a point of always tidying himself, in case the plants should be knocked over, and went across to them now to make sure that he had not even broken off any of of the flowers the members of The Rankin's Family. Actually he found something ‘quaint’ in the shape of each of ornaments within the frames of The Rankin's windows, especially those similar to, with chrysanthemums curved on the plastic, metal or wooden reflecting the colour of brownie, the favourite dye of the guests having been routinely invited to dinner , because they had the supreme merit of not looking in the least like other hues that would hue, but of being made, apparently, out of scraps of soiled silky material . “It looks just as though it had been cut out of the fabric of my t-shirt,” he would say to himself, pointing to a flowery shadow, with a shade of respect in his voice for so ‘smart’ am ornamenting part, for it distinguished... Doc as an unexpected amicable soul whom nature had suddenly bestowed upon the guests of The Rankin's, so far removed from his in the scale of existence, and yet so susceptible, so refined in an intellectual way of life, so much more worthy than many real audience of the greatest opera open admission to celebrities only. As he drew their attention what really is a unique one. Now to the sweet-tongued poets painted upon a brain or heart upon a sensitive-screen, now to a fleshy cluster of amicable souls, now to a non dreary of spiritually golden-work with flowery eyes, which kept company, in accordance, with an halo carved in emerald, the guests would pretend now to be shrinking from the ferocity of the gossips or laughing at some total absurdity, now blushing at the indecency of the flowers, now carried away by an irresistible desire to run across and embrace all embroideries, calling them ‘our symbolic darlings’ and these affectations were in sharp contrast to the sincerity of some of different type attitudes, notably everybody's devotion the invitation to Lady Rankin and her very dear husband who had once, when they were living at different districts, and yet having come to be cured themselves of mortal illnesses, as if The Rankin's medal should be, in gold, and they always carried on their own personalities, attributing to their unlimited powers. Doc should pour out host’s tea, inquired "lemon or sugar?" and, on his answering “neither” went on, smiling, “sugary bitterness then!” and as he pronounced it excellent, “You see, I know just how you like it.” so that this tea parties had indeed seemed to their host, just as it seemed to him, something precious... Doc loved that social affinity there it is defined as 'so far obliged to find some justification for itself, some guarantee of its duration in delicious dishes, and tea service, and thought shaped debates' which, on the contrary, would have no existence apart from love and must cease with its passing, that when he left Rankin's, at around eleven o’clock PM, to go and undress for sleep at his home. All the way home, sitting bolt upright in the taxi cab, unable to repress the happiness with which the intellectual debate’s adventure would had filled him, he kept on repeating to himself: “What fun it would be to learn new things like a little woman to suffice an impatient giant in all cases of his anxieties like that being in a heaven where one could always be certain of finding, what one never can be certain of finding, a really good cocktail of all races mixed in friendship.” In the time being he would receive a note from another bundle of amicable souls, and at once recognised that burlesque handwritings of his secondary school mates, in which an affectation of Afro-European stiffness imposed an apparent discipline upon the shapelessly dominative characters, significant, perhaps, to less intimate eyes than his, of an untidiness of their minds, at times some fragmentary education or rather some want of sincerity and decision. The Physician had left the others' invitation at his house. And yet wondered “Why,” they wrote, “did you not forget your heart also? Should they never have let one have that back.” More important, perhaps, was a second visit which he should pay them back, a little later. On his way to the house, as always when he knew that they were to meet, he formed a picture of the other friends in his mind; and the necessity, if he was to find any meaning in their face, of fixing their-the old school mates', eyes on the fresh and rosy protuberance of their cheekbones! Although the fact of shutting out all the rest of those cheeks which were so often popping with joy, except when they were punctuated with sullen designating spots, plunged him in a long duration of joy, as proving that one’s ideal is always attainable, and one’s actual happiness witty. He was taking all friends-belonging to the past and present-an engraving which they had asked to see. He was very well; they all received him, wearing a wrapper of mauve acceptance based on holy attainments, which draped their bosom, like a mantle, with a richly cost and fervent. As they stood there beside him, brushing his sensibilities with the tightened tresses of their senses, bending their brace in what was almost a juggler's pose, so that he could lean without tiring herself over the scene, at which he was gazing, with bended head, out of those great eyes, which seemed never weary nor sullen when there was something to animate him, Doc was struck by their resemblance to the figure of Samson of Delilah, which is to be seen in one of the old frescoes he had always found a peculiar fascination in tracing...

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 04-11-2017 at 04:00 AM.

  8. #323
    Registered User mesolzhenitsy's Avatar
    Join Date
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    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof

    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE

    It goes without saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologize
    Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/arti...#ixzz4Z1yWgPw5

    (Continuing from the last paragraph above)


    In the debates concerning the old masters' paintings, not from the point of merely general characteristics of the art lovers whom he encountered in The Rankin's, but rather what seems least susceptible of generalisation, the individual features of gentlemen and ladies who knew the general principles, as, for instance, for instance in a bust of the Picasso, the prominent eyebrows, the slanting mouth corners, in short, a speaking likeness to his own school mates; in the nose of the same bust; in a portrait by the same painter, the invasion of the plumpness of the cheek by the shadows of whiskers, the flatten nose, the sparkling stare, the swollen eyelids of the masterpiece. Perhaps because the artist had always regretted laziness, depression in his heart, that had been confined with a great attention to the social side of life, had been not bright, always, rather than acted, to be felt that it might be found a sort of indulgence bestowed upon every lines similar to those of other great artists...

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 04-11-2017 at 04:31 PM.

  9. #324
    Registered User mesolzhenitsy's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2011
    Location
    Constantinople/The European District
    Posts
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    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof

    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE

    It goes without saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologize
    Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/arti...#ixzz4Z1yWgPw5

    (Continuing from the last paragraph above)

    In the debates concerning the old masters' paintings, not from the point of merely general characteristics of the art lovers whom he encountered in The Rankin's, but rather what seems least susceptible of generalisation, the individual features of gentlemen and ladies who knew the general principles, as, for instance, for instance in a bust of the Picasso, the prominent eyebrows, the slanting mouth corners, in short, a speaking likeness to his own school mates; in the nose of the same bust; in a portrait by the same painter, the invasion of the plumpness of the cheek by the shadows of whiskers, the flatten nose, the sparkling stare, the swollen eyelids of the masterpiece. Perhaps because the artist had always regretted laziness, depression in his heart, that had been confined with a great attention to the social side of life, had been not bright, always, rather than acted, to be felt that it might be found a sort of indulgence bestowed upon every lines similar to those of other great artists...In his perception of the fact that the art and science lover guests of The Rankin's Family also had regarded with pleasure and had admitted into the tradition of their debates such types of considerations as give those works the strongest possible certificate of reality and trueness to life; a modern, almost a topical saviour; perhaps, also, they had so far succumbed to the prevailing stability of the liberal world's intellectuals of civilisation that they felt the necessity of re-exploring masterpieces some such obvious and refreshing allusion to the subjects about whom production could be made and repeated and enjoyed to-day. Perhaps, on the other hand, Doc had retained enough of the intellectual temperament to be able to find a genuine satisfaction in watching those individual features of the guests take on a more general significance when he saw them, uprooted and disembodied, in the abstract idea of similarity between an historic group and a modern original, whom it was not intended to represent. However that might be, and perhaps because the abundance of impressions which he, for some time past, had been receiving — though, indeed, they had come to The Rankin's! Their guests would rather construct the ideal communication through the channel of his appreciation of art and thought like music, painting, philosophy! They might have apparently enriched their appetite for chattering as well, it with an unusual intensity of pleasure, a pleasure destined to have a lasting effect upon their friendship and conduct, that Doc remarked The Rankin’s resemblance to the intellectual circles, to whom one couldn't shrink from giving their more popular feature, now that ‘Voltaire’ suggested not so much the actual work of the Thought and Art Masters as that excellent and royal conception of it which has of late obtained common currency. He no longer based his estimate of the merit of The Rankin’s character on the more or less good quality of their guests, and the softness and sweetness as of crimson petals which, he supposed, would greet his sincerely bowing there, should he ever hazard an embrace by all guests of The Rankin Family, but regarded it rather as a muffle of subtle and lovely silken threads! He used to make observations in the gazing eyes collected and wound together, following the curving line from the wet chocolate cake to the coke, where they might mingle the cadence of their dark brown colours springing from too much different sources based only 'hue' of glace upon the surface of them and the droop from sugary wrinkles, as though from a portrait of Dali, in which their type made clearly intelligible. He stood gazing at them, the cakes and coke's dripping ; traces of the old frescos apparent in the guests' face and limbs, and these he used to try incessantly, afterwards, to recapture, both when he was with The Rankin's, and when he was only thinking of them even in their absence; and, albeit their admiration for the every kind of masterpieces probably based upon his discoveries that it had been reproduced there! The similarity enhanced their cooperation also, and rendered them more precious in his sight. Doc congratulated himself with his victory, hitherto, to estimate at their true worth a existence whom even Socrates would have praised, and counted himself fortunate that his pleasure in the contemplation of the guests of the Rankin's found a justification in his own system of aesthetic, and he told himself that, in choosing the thought of them as the inspiration of his dreams of ideal happiness, he was not, as he had until then supposed, falling back, merely, upon an expedient of précis and certainly adequate value, since the guests contained in themselves what satisfied the utmost refinement of his taste in art and thought! So that he failed not to observe that the intellectual quality would not naturally avail to bring the guests into the category of intellectual whom he found appraisable, simply because his desires had always run counter to his aesthetic taste and thought appreciation. As for the colour and drawing the word ‘ painting’ ought to be valuable to him. Apparently they enabled him or rather gave him, as it were, a legal title to introduce the image of The Omnipotent personality into a world of dreams and fancies which, until then, he wouldn't be debarred from entering, and where he assumed a new and nobler form. Whereas the mere sight of the others-the plumber, his wife, madam teacher, the provincial banister and his wife, elder soldier, popular monitor of the mine 'x" the guitarist, two respectable neighbours from parents to their children in the flesh, by perpetually reviving attending to the quality of the dinner table and tea service of The Rankin's, their figures, the whole of their humanist intellectualism, used to cool the ardour of the routine debates, those misgivings to be swept away and the philanthropist affinities confirmed now and then that they could re-erect their estimate of The Rankin's on the sure foundations of shared rational aesthetic principles! While the chattering, the spiritually surrender which might have seemed natural and but moderately attractive, had they been granted them by Philip Rankin's Family of somewhat vigorous flesh and haematologically kinetic blood, coming, as now the guests should come, to crown their adoration of a masterpiece shared in The Rankin's, should, it seemed, prove as exquisite as they would be doing everything friendly. When he would be tempted to enjoy much more that, for months past, he should have done nothing but visit The Rankin's, he would assure himself that he could not unreasonable in giving up much of his time to the study of an inestimably precious work of art, giving start to thought, and cast for once in a new, a different, an especially charming masterpiece, in an unmatched exemplar which he would contemplate at one moment without being excessively humble, spiritual, and yet being interested mind of his, at another without also the pride, the selfishness...The sensual thrill of a collector might on the dinner table, at which he used to contemplate, to place, as it were a group photograph of the guests, as a reproduction of Picasso’s guitarist. He would gaze in admiration at the large hands, the delicate features in which the imperfection of his skin might be surmised, the marvellous silhouette of his guitar that fell along the wall around him; and, adapting what he had already to feel to be energetic, on aesthetic grounds, to the idea of a living artist, he should have converted it into a series of physical merits which he congratulated himself on finding assembled in the person. It might be of one whom he might, ultimately, possess or rather vague feeling of sympathy which attracts the guests to science, and work of art, now that he should know the type, in warm flesh and blood. Eventually Picasso’s guitarist, have must become a desire which more than re-conciliated, thenceforward, for that with which similar to The Rankin’s amicable charms would at first fail to inspire him. When he had sat for a long time gazing at the musical notes, he would think of his own living melody, who would seem all the lovelier in contrast, and as he should draw towards him the relics of Hittites he would imagine that he was holding art and thought against time. So this might be drawn up that it was not only Rankin’s difference, however, that one should take pains to circumvent; it should be also, not infrequently, his own; feeling that, since the guests would have every facility for seeing them, he might have seemed no longer to have very much to say to him when the guests would meet, he should be afraid lest the manner-at once non trivial, non monotonous, and seemingly alterable-which he might now adopt when they might be together to, ultimately, construct in him that romantic hope, that a day might come when he would make avowal of his passion... It should be something by which hope alone he had become and would remain friendship there. And so to alter, to give a fresh moral aspect to that circle in The Rankin's, of whose unchanging moral values and silky mood none should be afraid of growing healthy, he might consider, suddenly, a letter full of hinted discoveries and feigned indignation, which he sent off before so that it should reach all the guests before dinner-time. He knew that the guests wouldn't be frightened, and that anybody would reply, and he hoped that, when the shouldn't have any fear of losing him clutched at the heart of the circle consisting those guests of The Rankin's Family, it would force from their words such as he had never yet heard anybody uttering otherwise: and he would be right and yet by repeating this device everybody had won from The Rankin's the most affectionate words that they had, so far, written them, one of them-which he had sent to him at midday by a special messenger from the Mansion of The Rankin Family. It should be the day of the most delicious fiesta given for the friends who used to reiterate beginning “My dear, my hand trembles so that I can scarcely write”; and these words he had kept in the same chamber of the memory as a withered leaf of an orange. Or else, if he had not had time to write, when he arrived at the Rankin's he would come running up to the guests with an “I’ve something to say to you!” So he would gaze curiously at the revelation in the face and speech of the guests and listen to what they had hitherto kept concealed from each other. He would remember that in the routine way of the procedure he experienced colourful events, and even as he drew near to The Rankin's’ door, and caught sight of the great lamp-lit spaces of the dining hall windows, of which shutters were never closed, he would begin to melt at the thought of the charming chat that he would see, as he entered the mansion, basking in that medium glittered with light made of pure golden. Here and there the figures of the guests stood out, mild and bleached, between lamps and apertures, not off the light nor near to shadow, like those little pictures which one sees sometimes in anti-pastel softness upon the panes however other panes should be mere transparencies that he would try to make out the guests through lucid material of theirs. And then, when he was once in the mansion, with sensing, thinking, feeling his eyes sparkled suddenly with such radiant happiness that Lady Rankin was saying to the guests: “Oh! It seems to be getting much more fruitful” Indeed, Lady Rankin's presence gave the mansion what none other of the houses that he visited seemed to possess: a sort of tactual or rather profoundly touching sense, a heart rending which ramified into each of its corners sending a perpetual stimulus to his heart so that the simple and regular manifestations of a social and yet non-official organisation, namely the ‘affable group’ were transformed for the guests of The Rankin Family into a series of daily encounters with Lady Rankin, and enabled everybody to manifest the peculiarity to the prospect of seeing her guests, or even a desire to see them; in doing which nobody incurred no very great risk since, even although some ones had written to the other guests during the sessions, everybody would of necessity see the guests in the evening and accompany them home. Never an evening, when, over-enjoyed by the thought of that inevitably enlightened drive together with the other guests on the rail of thought, art, humanism, he had taken his other ‘little hobbies’ all the way to the table, so as not to delay as long as possible the moment of his appearance at the scene of a good intellectual, even if he was so late in reaching them that the guests of The Rankin Family, supposing that he did not intend to go out of the main subject viz. philanthropy, had already left. Seeing the room full of the guests, he felt his heart impelled by sudden good nature anguish; he shook with the sense that he was not to be being deprived of a pleasure whose intensity he began then for the first time to estimate, having routinely, hitherto, had that certainty of finding it whenever he could, which as in the case of all the mankind's induced, if it did not altogether rejoicing him to its dimensions plus than the general ones namely length, width, depth while he would be getting ready to ask “Did you notice the face we pulled when we saw that all the guests weren’t here?” having waited the answer of Lady Rankin : “I think we may say that they're hooked.” Madam Teacher exploded: “The face they pulled?” exploded! The plumber having left the hall for a moment to mend a conduit linked to the waste water system of the mansion would demand to have a little explanation about 'pulling face, after he had just returned to fetch his wife and did not know thoroughly whom they were discussing. His wife spoke: “Do you mean to say you didn’t meet them with a sullen face apt to be welcomed on the doorstep the loveliest of Rankin's?” Doc spoke: “No. Nobody has a sullen face here?” Elder soldier: “Just for a moment. We had a glimpse of a Rankin tremendously happy, and promising successive happiness. In a non state of nerves. You see, how some guests had left.” Doc wondered: “You mean to say that they have gone the ‘whole the punch’ with Rankin's" The situation is that they haven't ‘burned boats’?” Also inquired the Doc cautiously, testing the meaning of his phrases, " as that? and added, “why, of course not; there’s absolutely nothing in it; in fact, between any guests and others, I think we all are making an atom's weight mistake, and behaving like a lovely little child, which we're, incidentally.” One of the neighbours would say "Come, come! How on earth do you surmise that there’s ‘nothing in debates’? We hadn’t been here to see nothing, have we now? Lady Rankin told me that she should answer any guest without dignity. And added “I may say that she tells and her guests tell me everything. As The Rankin's has no one else at present, I told her that she ought to take part in every debate with her guests. She makes out that she can; she admits, she was immensely attracted by her guests, at first; but she’s always shy with us, and that makes her shy with her husband namely Philip Rankin. Besides, she does care for him in that way, she says; it’s an ideal love, ‘Genuinely platonic,’ you know; she’s afraid of rubbing the sensitive veins lest she erase the bloom off... Oh, I don’t know half the things she says, how should I? And yet methinks that she’s exactly the sort of woman he might want.” The neighbour should obviously not beg to differ one guest from others, so that Doc courteously interrupted for he only half satisfied with the statements that the neighbour would pose! From the other side Madam Teacher’s whole body stiffened with happiness, her eyes stared brightly as though she had suddenly been turned into a monument of holy zest; a device by means of which she might be supposed not to have caught the sound of aesthetics induced ecstasy of all unuttered word which seemed to imply that it was possible for people to ‘pose’ in her corner, and, therefore, that there were people in the world who ‘mattered more’ than herself. So she uttered “Anyhow, if there is everything or rather a lot of things in debates, I don’t suppose it’s because our friend namely the guests of The Rankin's believes in her virtue. And yet, you never know; we-the guests seem to believe in our intelligence. I don’t know whether you heard the way all lectured each other viz. the other evening about thought and art debates. I am devoted to the Rankin's Family, but really-to expound theories of aesthetic and mentality to each other-the guests must be a prize genius.” Elder soldier and a neighbour remarked “Look here, we won’t have you saying exaggerated things about The Rankin's,” broke in Lady Rankin in her ‘good manner girl’ manner so that she would be charming still.Actually there’s no reason why The Rankin's Family members shouldn’t be charming; the guests could not be saying anything bizarre about them, only that the friendly family is not the embodiment of either virtue or intellect. After all, some guests remarked: ” They gave place to both the guitarist and the painter, the pianist and the like“ Obviously it does matter so very much whether the artist is virtuous or not? You can’t tell; the host and hostess might be a great deal less charming if they were.” On the landing every guest had run into the Rankin’s circle that had been somewhere else a protective place for a moment, when the guests arrived, and who had been asked especially by Philip Rankin to tell all of the guests (but arrival of Madam teacher was at least an hour ago) that they would probably stop to drink a cup of coke on her way home. A neighbour and the elder soldier set off at once for Rankin’s, but every few yards their cabs was held up by others, or by people crossing the street... Obstacles? No! Each of the guests who would gladly would rather fly above wheels, were it not that madam teacher fumbling with a note-book would delay them even longer than the actual passage of happiness of the younger guests. Before meeting with the other guests of The Rankin's Family one should have counted the minutes feverishly, adding a few seconds to each so as to be quite certain that one had not given oneself short measure, and so, possibly, exaggerated whatever chance there might actually be of his arriving at the Rankin’s in time, and of finding the host and the hostess still there. And then, in a moment of illumination, like a amicable soul in a fever who awakes from sleep and is conscious of the entity of the dream-shapes among which one's mind has been wandering without any clear distinction between oneself and the other guests. Doc suddenly perceived how foreign to his nature were the thoughts which he had been revolving in his mind ever since he had heard at the Rankin’s that none had left, how novel the heartache from which everybody was enjoying, but of which he was only now conscious, as though he had just woken up. What! all this happiness simply because the guests would see The Rankin's, now, till to-morrow, exactly what they had been hoping, not an hour before, as they drove toward the mansion of The Rankin Family. They were not obliged of course to admit also that now, as they sat at the same dinner-table, and drove to love for human, and they were no longer the same people, were no longer alone even-but that a new personalities were there beside themselves, adhering to them, amalgamated with them, a folk from whom they might, perhaps, be able to liberate themselves form melancholy, towards that they might have to adopt some such stratagem as one uses to outwit a master or a malady, and yet, during the last moment in which the guests had felt that another, a fresh personality was thus conjoined with themselves, life had seemed, somehow, more interesting.It shouldn't be in vain that the guests assured themselves that this possible meeting at The Rankin’s -the pleasure of waiting for which so ravished, stripped so bare the intervening moments that they could find everything, not only one single idea, not one memory in their mind beneath which they troubled spirit might take shelter and repose-would probably, after all, should it take place, be much the same as all their meetings, of so much great importance. As on every other evening, once they were in The Rankin’s company, once they had begun to cast furtive glances at the possible changing countenance, and instantly to withdraw their eyes lest the other guests should read in them the first symbols of desire and believe much more in their loyalty, they would cease to be able even to think of each other, so busy would they be in the search for pretexts which would enable them not to leave the jolly group immediately, and to assure themselves, without betraying their concern, that they would find all guest friends again, next evening, at the Rankin’s; pretexts, that is to say, which would enable them to prolong for the time being, and to renew for one day more the satisfactory, the torturing deception that must always come to them with the vain presence of the friendly, that they might approach, yet ever dared embrace each other. They should be at The Rankin’s; they should search for philanthropy shared by the amicable souls, then, in every corners in the mansion of The Rankin Family members. To save time, while they went in one direction, they sent in the other the host and the hostess for whom they presently-after a fruitless search-found themselves waiting at the spot where the debate was to be debated by them. It did not appear, and Doc tantalised himself with alternate pictures of the approaching moment, as one in which madam teacher would say to him: “monsieur, the reality is there,” or as one in which madam teacher would say to him: “monsieur, the was was not in any of the debates.” And so all neighbours saw themselves faced by the close of The Rankin's evening-a thing uniform, and yet bifurcated by the intervening accident which would either put an end to his agony by discovering Lady Rankin, or would oblige all of them to abandon any hope of finding themselves amongst the voices of debate, to accept the necessity of finding truth not of course without having seen it. There was also a retired coachman trying to return to the social life through the guests group at the dinner table of The Rankin's; but, as he drew up opposite any omnipotent, he used to ask, “How did you find the magnificent philanthropy of the host and hostess of ours here?” adding “please remind me, the next time, to order in some more humanist subject to be debated. I am sure we must be running longer and longer.” Perhaps he had persuaded himself that, if Philip Rankin had at last found an angel namely Anita Rankin in the life, where he was waiting for her help still, then his evenings of humane effort wasn't to be obliterated by the realisation, begun already in his mind, of better evenings of joy, and that there was a need for him to hasten towards the attainment of a happiness already captured and held in a safe place. Eventually it was also by the force of the situation 'effort vs. inertia'; there was in his soul that want of adaptability which can be seen in the group of certain people whom he would host, when the moment comes to attain novelties, to snatch extra happiness or to perform any other such necessary philanthropic movements... Their time-as the saying is-would begin by remaining for a moment in their original position, as though seeking to find in it a stop to gain starting point for a source of strength and motion, and probably, if the omnipotent of the group of the guests had interrupted one with, “You have found the proper group,” and everybody should have answered, “Oh, yes, of course; that’s what one told the fortune to do. One had quite forgotten,” and would have continued to discuss one's contribution, so as to hide from one's engine viz. the emotion that one had felt, and to give oneself time to break away from the thraldom of one's anguish and abandon oneself to pleasure. The omnipotent came back, however, with the report that he could not find the starting point anywhere, and added the advice, as an old and privileged people, “I think, my dear friends, that all we can do now is to disperse and go our homes.” But the air of joy which all the guests could so lightly assume when omnipotent uttered his final, unalterable response, fell from his mouth like a cast-off cloak when he saw nobody attempt to make him abandon hope and retire from the group of the guests.Certainly it should not a sheer coincidence if the guests have exclaimed. “We should find the Lady Anita and Philip Rankin as the unique pair of host and hostess. It ought to be an important process. We would be extremely put out-it’s a liberal intellectualism matter-and vexed with us if they didn’t host us.” Actually they do not see how the lady Rankin can be happy with her guests since it was she that couldn't go away in all the ways of life without waiting for hosting them, why, it used to be said the amicable souls ought to be going to the Rankin’s, and to be happy there. Meanwhile the restaurants couldn't be available to dine and debate while their lights began to go out. Under the trees of the Rankin's orchards there might still found a few people strolling to and fro, barely distinguishable in the gathering darkness on the contrary when the ghost of a woman or a gentleman glided up to the dining hall, murmured a few words in the other guests' ear, asking them to share some thoughts and senses, and left themselves shuddering. Anxiously one might explore every one of these vaguely seen shapes, as though among the phantoms of the dead kings, in the realms of the Pharaoh's darkness, one had been searching for the VIP and yet lost souls. Inasmuch as among all the methods by which love for philanthropy might brought into being, among all the agents which disseminate that blessed bane, there are few so efficacious as the great gust of agitation which, time to time, sweeps over the spirit of The Rankin's spirit. Then what? Then the guests in whose company one might be seeking both learning and amusement at the moment, whose lot should be cast, one's fate and the future of the guests decided, that would be the existence whom one should henceforward love. It wouldn't be necessary that they should have pleased one, up till then, any more, or even as much as others. All that is necessary would be that one taste for one should become intimate. Actually that condition could be fulfilled so soon as in the moment when one has failed to meet the others-for the pleasure which one should be on the point of enjoying in the others charming company would be abruptly substituted an anxious torturing desire, whose object might the existence oneself, an rational, logically well designed desire, which the laws of civilised society make it impossible to satisfy and difficult to assuage-the sensible, vivid desire to possess dignity amongst the others. Eventually one found himself drive to The Rankin's wherein were the guests still debating; it was the sole hypothesis, then that intellectual happiness which one had contemplated so calmly; one no longer concealed one's satisfaction, the present one set upon their meeting, and promised, in case of success, to reward one's skilfulness, as though, by inspiring in oneself a will to triumph which would reinforce one's own, one could bring it to pass, by a miracle, that the host and hostess assuming that their guests would go somehow home to bed-might yet be found seated at the dinner table. One pursued the quest as far as one of the neighbour, burst twice into another neighbour’s and, still without catching sight of all guests, was emerging from somewhere, striding with haggard gaze towards the group who was waiting for him at the centre of the hall. It was one; the same one explained, later, that there had been plenty room at The Rankin’s, that one had gone, instead, and had been sitting there in an alcove where one must have overlooked oneself, and that one was now looking for one's attention induced friendship. One had too much expected to see the others that one started forward in gaiety. As for one, one had ransacked the lanes around The Rankin's, not that one supposed it possible that one should find the others, but because one would have enjoyed even more joyfully by abandoning the attempts of anguish. But now the joy (which, one's reason had never ceased to assure oneself, was not, that evening at least, to be realised) wouldn't be suddenly apparent or more real than ever before; for one oneself had contributed nothing to it by anticipating probabilities-it remained in the shape of interior and exterior to oneself; there was no need for one to draw on one's own resources to endow it with truth-it was from itself that there emanated, ’it was itself that projected towards one that truth whose glorious dreamy sun beams melted and scattered like a micro cosmos of a lost universe the sense of loneliness which had lowered over one, that truth upon which one had supported, nay founded, albeit unconsciously, one's vision of blissful treatment. So will a guest, who has come down, on a day of glorious weather, to both the south and north Africa, and is doubtful whether those conceptions still exist, those lands which one has left, let one's eyes be dazzled, rather than cast a backward glance, by the radiance streaming towards one from the highly illuminated azure before one's way. One climbed after the others to the crest of the debates which the host and the hostess had kept waiting, and ordered not one's own route to follow. Onee had in one's hand a bunch of papers, and they all-at The Rankin's- could see, over the surface the lace like scriptures that covered one's head, more of the same documents fastened to a philanthropist style. One was wearing, in the suit of one's, an apparel flowing like a dark blue velvet, caught up on one side so as to reveal a large triangular patch of cream colour cotton shirt, with an insertion, also of a silky neck-tie, in the cocktail of textures were fastened a lot of aesthetical lines . One had scarcely recovered from the shock which the sight of the host and hostess had given one, when some obstacle made the medium start a chat to one side while the guests were thrown forward from their seats; one uttered a happy exclamations, and fell back quivering and breathless in the utopia lived at The Rankin's. “It’s all right,” one would rather assure the other guests, “don’t be aliened.” then one might pat shoulder of the others-including the host and hostess-supporting their shadow against one's own; then should go on: “Whatever you do, do utter a lot of humanism induced words; just make more friendly signs, yes, yes or you’ll be out of breath. You won’t mind if I put the flowers straight on your shoulders or, say more logically in your vases; even if the jolt has loosened the legs of the chairs of yours. I’m afraid of your dropping out; I’m just going to fasten your positions a little more securely.” Was not the host or hostess used to being treated with so much formality by guests, and smiled as they answered: “No, not at all; I don’t mind in the least, if more philanthropy would be available here.” And yet, chilled a little by their answer, perhaps, also, to bear out the pretence that they had been sincere in adopting the stratagem in the debates a propos thought or sense, or even because one should already be beginning to believe that one had been, exclaimed: “No, no; don't shut up you must speak even if you will be out of breath again. You can easily answer in signs; we-the others shall understand. Really and truly now, you don’t mind our doing anything? Look, there is a little specks-we think it must be pollen, spilt all over our friendship-may we brush it off with our hands? Although that’s not too much harassing; one's not hurting them, is one? He is not tickling them, perhaps, a little; but he doesn’t want to touch the hearts in this case while rubbing it the softest way. But, doesn’t one see, one really had to fasten the guests to each other; and they would have not fallen out if one hadn’t. Like that, now; if one just pushes them a little farther adjacent to each other...Eventually, one is not annoying them, is one? And if one just sniffs them to see whether they’ve really lost all the senses shared with them? One doesn’t believe one ever smelt any before; may one? Telling the truth, now, Still smiling, one shrugged one's shoulders ever so slightly, as who should say, “You’re quite the great; you know very well that the humanists like it humans.” One slipped one's other hand upwards along the others’ neck; one fixed one's eyes on them with that languishing and solemn air which marks the historical philanthropists of the pre-historic cave paintings, in whose faces one had found the type of theirs; swimming at the brink of their body lines' fringed lids, the brilliant eyes, large and finely drawn as theirs, seemed on the verge of breaking from the faces and rolling down the cheeks like two great tears. So one bent one's neck, as all the necks of the others may be seen to bend, in the prehistoric cave paintings as well as in the ancient scriptures. And although one's attitude was, of course, habitual and instinctive, one which one knew to be appropriate to such moments, and was careful not to forget to assume, one seemed to need all one's strength to hold one's face back, as though some invisible force were drawing it down towards The Rankin’s. And yet the Rankin Family was who, before one allowed one's face, as though despite one's efforts, to fall upon one's hands, held them back for a moment longer, at a little distance between his hands. One had intended to leave time for one's mind to overtake one's movements, to recognise the dream which one had so long cherished and to assist at its realisation, like a concertmaster invited as a spectator when a prize is given to the orchestra whom she has reared and loves. Perhaps, moreover, one oneself was fixing upon these features of the Rankin's not yet possessed, not even directed by him, on whom one was looking now for the last time, that comprehensive gaze with which, on the day of one final act, the adventurers strives to bear away with them in memory the view of a country to which one may never return.

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 04-26-2017 at 05:05 PM.

  10. #325
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    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof

    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE

    It goes without saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologize
    Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/arti...#ixzz4Z1yWgPw5

    (Continuing from the last paragraph above but the next)


    In the debates concerning the old masters' paintings, not from the point of merely general characteristics of the art lovers whom he encountered in The Rankin's, but rather what seems least susceptible of generalisation, the individual features of gentlemen and ladies who knew the general principles, as, for instance, for instance in a bust of the Picasso, the prominent eyebrows, the slanting mouth corners, in short, a speaking likeness to his own school mates; in the nose of the same bust; in a portrait by the same painter, the invasion of the plumpness of the cheek by the shadows of whiskers, the flatten nose, the sparkling stare, the swollen eyelids of the masterpiece. Perhaps because the artist had always regretted laziness, depression in his heart, that had been confined with a great attention to the social side of life, had been not bright, always, rather than acted, to be felt that it might be found a sort of indulgence bestowed upon every lines similar to those of other great artists...
    ............
    Nonetheless one was so shy in approaching the other ones that, after every evening of which contributors had been used to begin by their arranging one's cattle as and had ended in one's complete surrender, whether from fear of enliven excessively one's, or from reluctance to appear, even taking one's part willy-nilly, to have lied, or perhaps because one lacked the capability to formulate a more urgent requirement than this-which could always be repeated, since it had pleased one on the first occasion-one resorted to the same pretext on the following debates. If one had any consideration pinned to the others, one would say: “It is most unfortunate; the speculations of mine don’t need tucking in this evening; they’ve not been disturbed as they were the other evening debates full on humanism; I think, though, that this one isn’t quite straight. May I see if they have more scent than the others?” Or else, if one had none: “Oh! no negative sensibility this evening; then there’s nothing for me to arrange.” Inasmuch as for some time there was no change from the procedure which one had followed on those first evening debates, when one had started by touching one sensibility, with one's approvals first and then with one's statements, but their caresses began invariably with this modest exploration. At times, when the arrangement or rather, the ritual format of an arrangement designed within one's presence had quite climbed up to a certain peak , the metaphor “Look as an rescuer” transmuted into a simple verb which the others would employ without a thought of its original meaning when they wished to refer only to the act of physical or spiritual help in which, paradoxically, the possessor possesses many thing, survived to commemorate in the vocabulary of the others through the long forgotten custom from which it sprang. And yet possibly this particular manner of saying “to love human” had not the precise significance of its synonyms as philanthropy. However disillusioned the guests of the Rankin Family may be about one, however they may regard the possession of even the most respectable ones as an invariable and monotonous experience, every detail of which is known and can be described in advance, it still becomes a fresh and stimulating pleasure if one could concern-be it or be thought to be- so difficult as to oblige one to base one's good manner attempts upon some unrehearsed incident in our relations with them, as was originally for one the arrangement of the good looking. One trembled with humanist zest as one hoped, that evening, (but one, as one had been told, if they were force him to explain more individual commentaries about thought and sense by one's stratagem, could not guess one's intention that it was the possession of the other guests that would emerge for one from their large and richly coloured petals; and the pleasure which one already felt, and which the host and the hostess tolerated, one thought, perhaps only because one was not yet aware of it oneself, seemed to one for that reason as it might have seemed to the first people when one enjoyed it amid the flowers of the earthly paradise a pleasure which had never before existed, which one was striving now to create, a pleasure, and the special name which one was to give to it preserved its identity entirely individual and new then. The debate once burst, every evening, when they had shared at the Rankin's, one must follow them in the dinner hall; and often one would come out again in one's smoking like jacket, and escort one's dog MISHKA to the garden, and would kiss it the before the eyes of some guests, saying: “What on earth does it matter what people scrutinize?” And on evenings when one did not go to the Rankin’s which happened occasionally, now that one had opportunities of meeting the others elsewhere, when-more and more rarely-he went into the cafe type medium of the society, one would beg the others to come to one's car on one's way home, however late one might be. The season was the last days of the winter, and the late evenings clear and frosty. One would come away from an evening excursion, jump into one's dog MISHKA The Russian child bear, spread a rug over one's knees, tell the humanitarian friends who were leaving at the same time, and who insisted on one's going home with them, that one could not, that one was not going in their direction... Then the guests would start off at a fast movement without further contributions to the debate, knowing quite well where they had to go. All friends would be left marvelling, and, as a matter of fact, one was no longer the same people. No one ever received a clue from one now demanding an introduction to new friends. One hadn't ceased to pay less attention to the new guests, and kept away from the places in which one and the friend-guests were ordinarily to be met. At the dinner table in the mansion of The Rankin Family, or in every corners of the house, one's manner was deliberately and directly the opposite of that by which, only a few days earlier, one's friends would have recognised one, that manner which had seemed permanently and unalterably one's own. To such an extent does passion manifest itself in every guests as a temporary and distinct character, which not only takes the place of their normal character but actually obliterates the signs by which that character has hitherto been discernible. On the other hand, there was one thing that was, now, invariable, namely that wherever one might be spending the evening, one never failed to go on afterwards to The Rankin's. The interval of space separating the guests from one was that which one must as inevitably traverse as one must descend, by an irresistible gravitation, the steep slope of life oneself. As the first duty of a philanthropy condensed identification should be being frank, as often as or as often as not, when one had stayed late at a the evening debate after dinner, one would have not preferred to return home at once, without going so far out of one's way, and to postpone their meeting with childhood friends until the morrow; but the very fact of his putting oneself to such inconvenience at an abnormal hour in order to visit a friend one would remember very frequently, while one guessed that one's friends, as one left them, as the old friends were saying to one another: “One is tied hand and foot; there must certainly be a love for humanity somewhere who insists on one's going to one at all hours,” made one feel that one was leading the life of the class of people whose existence is coloured by a love-affair, and in whom the perpetual sacrifice which the lovers are making of their comfort and of their practical interests has engendered a spiritual charm. Then, though one may not consciously have taken this into consideration, the certainty that one was waiting for the friends, that one was not anywhere or with anyone else, that one would see oneself before one went home, drew the sting from that anguish, forgotten, it is true, but latent and ever ready to be reawakened, which one had felt on the evening when one had left the Rankin's before one's arrival, an anguish the actual cessation of which was so agreeable that it might even be called a state of humanist ecstasy. Probably it was to that hour of healing a masked depression that there must be attributed the importance of humanist thoughts which Africa-as a whole-had since assumed in its life. All of the African people are, as a rule, so sensitive from the points of humanitarian of ours that, when we have entrusted to any one of them the power to cause so much help or happiness to the mankind, that one seems at once to belong to a different universe, is surrounded with thought and sense, makes of our lives a vast expanse, quick with sensation, on which that person and ourselves are ever more or less in contact so that one could not without anxiety ask oneself what one would mean to the other guests in the years that were to come sometimes, or rather at times as one looked up from one's victorious on those fine and fragile evenings of early times of every seasons, and saw the dazzling lights of the street lamps fall between his eyes and the deserted streets, one would think of that other face, gleaming and faintly flowery like the setting sun’s, which had, one day, risen on the horizon of his mind and since then had shed upon the world that mysterious light in which one saw it bathed even if one arrived after the hour at which one sent one's friends to bed, before ringing the bells from somewhere one would go round first into the other subjects besides those debated in The Rankin's, over which, at the ground-level, among the windows-all exactly alike, but more enlightened-of the adjoining houses, shone the solitary lighted side of one's corner. One would count rhythm upon the floor, and the others would hear the signal, and answer one's deep questions... Before running into The Omnipotent without having got any schedule to meet him at the hall one would find, lying open on the table, some of the guests' favourite music to be played by The Guitarist, the March des Kings of Bizet, the Pauper Crowds of Thailand or something like that which, according to the instructions embodied in the composer's will, was to be played at the festivals similar to those of Rio; but one would ask the others, instead, to give one the little phrase from any Italian composer’s sonata. It was true that the guitarist played vilely, but often the fairest impression that remains in our minds of a favourite air is one which has arisen out of a conglomeration of brilliant notes struck by skilful fingers upon a well tuneless musical instrument. The little phrase was associated still, in one’s mind, with his love for humanitarian guests at the Rankin's. One felt clearly that this approach to music was something to which there were no corresponding exaggerated signs, whose meaning could not be proved by any but oneself; one realised, too, that the other’s qualities were naturally such as to justify setting so high a value on the hours one spent in their company. Occasionally, when the pure domination of reason stood unchallenged, one would readily have ceased to sacrifice so many of one's intellectual and social interests to the pleasure of thought and feeling. And yet the little phrase, as soon as it struck one's ear, had the power to liberate in oneself the room that was needed to contain it; the proportions of one’s soul were altered; a margin was left for a form of deep pleasure which corresponded no more than one's love for humanism to any external object, and yet was not, like one's enjoyment of that love, purely individual, but assumed for oneself an objective reality superior to that of both abstract and concrete things. This thirst for an highly pleased charm, the little phrase would stimulate it anew in one, but without bringing one any definite gratification to assuage it. With the result that those parts of one’s soul in which the little phrase had obliterated all care for material interests, those humanist considerations which affect all the guests of The Rankin Family alike, were left bare by it, their tabula rasa on which one was at liberty to inscribe the name of philanthropy. Moreover, where one’s affection might seem ever so little abrupt and disappointing, the little phrase would come to supplement it, to amalgamate with it its own mysterious organisation or rather structure.


    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 04-30-2017 at 03:34 PM.

  11. #326
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    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof

    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE

    It goes without saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologize
    Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/arti...#ixzz4Z1yWgPw5

    (Continuing from the last paragraph above but the next)


    In the debates concerning the old masters' paintings, not from the point of merely general characteristics of the art lovers whom he encountered in The Rankin's, but rather what seems least susceptible of generalisation, the individual features of gentlemen and ladies who knew the general principles, as, for instance, for instance in a bust of the Picasso, the prominent eyebrows, the slanting mouth corners, in short, a speaking likeness to his own school mates; in the nose of the same bust; in a portrait by the same painter, the invasion of the plumpness of the cheek by the shadows of whiskers, the flatten nose, the sparkling stare, the swollen eyelids of the masterpiece. Perhaps because the artist had always regretted laziness, depression in his heart, that had been confined with a great attention to the social side of life, had been not bright, always, rather than acted, to be felt that it might be found a sort of indulgence bestowed upon every lines similar to those of other great artists...
    ............
    Nonetheless one was so shy in approaching the other ones that, after every evening of which contributors had been used to begin by their arranging one's cattle as and had ended in one's complete surrender, whether from fear of enliven excessively one's, or from reluctance to appear, even taking one's part willy-nilly, to have lied, or perhaps because one lacked the capability to formulate a more urgent requirement than this-which could always be repeated, since it had pleased one on the first occasion-one resorted to the same pretext on the following debates. If one had any consideration pinned to the others, one would say: “It is most unfortunate; the speculations of mine don’t need tucking in this evening; they’ve not been disturbed as they were the other evening debates full on humanism; I think, though, that this one isn’t quite straight. May I see if they have more scent than the others?” Or else, if one had none: “Oh! no negative sensibility this evening; then there’s nothing for me to arrange.” Inasmuch as for some time there was no change from the procedure which one had followed on those first evening debates, when one had started by touching one sensibility, with one's approvals first and then with one's statements, but their caresses began invariably with this modest exploration. At times, when the arrangement or rather, the ritual format of an arrangement designed within one's presence had quite climbed up to a certain peak , the metaphor “Look as an rescuer” transmuted into a simple verb which the others would employ without a thought of its original meaning when they wished to refer only to the act of physical or spiritual help in which, paradoxically, the possessor possesses many thing, survived to commemorate in the vocabulary of the others through the long forgotten custom from which it sprang. And yet possibly this particular manner of saying “to love human” had not the precise significance of its synonyms as philanthropy. However disillusioned the guests of the Rankin Family may be about one, however they may regard the possession of even the most respectable ones as an invariable and monotonous experience, every detail of which is known and can be described in advance, it still becomes a fresh and stimulating pleasure if one could concern-be it or be thought to be- so difficult as to oblige one to base one's good manner attempts upon some unrehearsed incident in our relations with them, as was originally for one the arrangement of the good looking. One trembled with humanist zest as one hoped, that evening, (but one, as one had been told, if they were force him to explain more individual commentaries about thought and sense by one's stratagem, could not guess one's intention that it was the possession of the other guests that would emerge for one from their large and richly coloured petals; and the pleasure which one already felt, and which the host and the hostess tolerated, one thought, perhaps only because one was not yet aware of it oneself, seemed to one for that reason as it might have seemed to the first people when one enjoyed it amid the flowers of the earthly paradise a pleasure which had never before existed, which one was striving now to create, a pleasure, and the special name which one was to give to it preserved its identity entirely individual and new then. The debate once burst, every evening, when they had shared at the Rankin's, one must follow them in the dinner hall; and often one would come out again in one's smoking like jacket, and escort one's dog MISHKA to the garden, and would kiss it the before the eyes of some guests, saying: “What on earth does it matter what people scrutinize?” And on evenings when one did not go to the Rankin’s which happened occasionally, now that one had opportunities of meeting the others elsewhere, when-more and more rarely-he went into the cafe type medium of the society, one would beg the others to come to one's car on one's way home, however late one might be. The season was the last days of the winter, and the late evenings clear and frosty. One would come away from an evening excursion, jump into one's dog MISHKA The Russian child bear, spread a rug over one's knees, tell the humanitarian friends who were leaving at the same time, and who insisted on one's going home with them, that one could not, that one was not going in their direction... Then the guests would start off at a fast movement without further contributions to the debate, knowing quite well where they had to go. All friends would be left marvelling, and, as a matter of fact, one was no longer the same people. No one ever received a clue from one now demanding an introduction to new friends. One hadn't ceased to pay less attention to the new guests, and kept away from the places in which one and the friend-guests were ordinarily to be met. At the dinner table in the mansion of The Rankin Family, or in every corners of the house, one's manner was deliberately and directly the opposite of that by which, only a few days earlier, one's friends would have recognised one, that manner which had seemed permanently and unalterably one's own. To such an extent does passion manifest itself in every guests as a temporary and distinct character, which not only takes the place of their normal character but actually obliterates the signs by which that character has hitherto been discernible. On the other hand, there was one thing that was, now, invariable, namely that wherever one might be spending the evening, one never failed to go on afterwards to The Rankin's. The interval of space separating the guests from one was that which one must as inevitably traverse as one must descend, by an irresistible gravitation, the steep slope of life oneself. As the first duty of a philanthropy condensed identification should be being frank, as often as or as often as not, when one had stayed late at a the evening debate after dinner, one would have not preferred to return home at once, without going so far out of one's way, and to postpone their meeting with childhood friends until the morrow; but the very fact of his putting oneself to such inconvenience at an abnormal hour in order to visit a friend one would remember very frequently, while one guessed that one's friends, as one left them, as the old friends were saying to one another: “One is tied hand and foot; there must certainly be a love for humanity somewhere who insists on one's going to one at all hours,” made one feel that one was leading the life of the class of people whose existence is coloured by a love-affair, and in whom the perpetual sacrifice which the lovers are making of their comfort and of their practical interests has engendered a spiritual charm. Then, though one may not consciously have taken this into consideration, the certainty that one was waiting for the friends, that one was not anywhere or with anyone else, that one would see oneself before one went home, drew the sting from that anguish, forgotten, it is true, but latent and ever ready to be reawakened, which one had felt on the evening when one had left the Rankin's before one's arrival, an anguish the actual cessation of which was so agreeable that it might even be called a state of humanist ecstasy. Probably it was to that hour of healing a masked depression that there must be attributed the importance of humanist thoughts which Africa-as a whole-had since assumed in its life. All of the African people are, as a rule, so sensitive from the points of humanitarian of ours that, when we have entrusted to any one of them the power to cause so much help or happiness to the mankind, that one seems at once to belong to a different universe, is surrounded with thought and sense, makes of our lives a vast expanse, quick with sensation, on which that person and ourselves are ever more or less in contact so that one could not without anxiety ask oneself what one would mean to the other guests in the years that were to come sometimes, or rather at times as one looked up from one's victorious on those fine and fragile evenings of early times of every seasons, and saw the dazzling lights of the street lamps fall between his eyes and the deserted streets, one would think of that other face, gleaming and faintly flowery like the setting sun’s, which had, one day, risen on the horizon of his mind and since then had shed upon the world that mysterious light in which one saw it bathed even if one arrived after the hour at which one sent one's friends to bed, before ringing the bells from somewhere one would go round first into the other subjects besides those debated in The Rankin's, over which, at the ground-level, among the windows-all exactly alike, but more enlightened-of the adjoining houses, shone the solitary lighted side of one's corner. One would count rhythm upon the floor, and the others would hear the signal, and answer one's deep questions... Before running into The Omnipotent without having got any schedule to meet him at the hall one would find, lying open on the table, some of the guests' favourite music to be played by The Guitarist, the March des Kings of Bizet, the Pauper Crowds of Thailand or something like that which, according to the instructions embodied in the composer's will, was to be played at the festivals similar to those of Rio; but one would ask the others, instead, to give one the little phrase from any Italian composer’s sonata. It was true that the guitarist played vilely, but often the fairest impression that remains in our minds of a favourite air is one which has arisen out of a conglomeration of brilliant notes struck by skilful fingers upon a well tuneless musical instrument. The little phrase was associated still, in one’s mind, with his love for humanitarian guests at the Rankin's. One felt clearly that this approach to music was something to which there were no corresponding exaggerated signs, whose meaning could not be proved by any but oneself; one realised, too, that the other’s qualities were naturally such as to justify setting so high a value on the hours one spent in their company. Occasionally, when the pure domination of reason stood unchallenged, one would readily have ceased to sacrifice so many of one's intellectual and social interests to the pleasure of thought and feeling. And yet the little phrase, as soon as it struck one's ear, had the power to liberate in oneself the room that was needed to contain it; the proportions of one’s soul were altered; a margin was left for a form of deep pleasure which corresponded no more than one's love for humanism to any external object, and yet was not, like one's enjoyment of that love, purely individual, but assumed for oneself an objective reality superior to that of both abstract and concrete things. This thirst for an highly pleased charm, the little phrase would stimulate it anew in one, but without bringing one any definite gratification to assuage it. With the result that those parts of one’s soul in which the little phrase had obliterated all care for material interests, those humanist considerations which affect all the guests of The Rankin Family alike, were left bare by it, their tabula rasa on which one was at liberty to inscribe the name of philanthropy. Moreover, where one’s affection might seem ever so little abrupt and disappointing, the little phrase would come to supplement it, to amalgamate with it its own mysterious organisation or rather structure.
    ..................................
    Observing one’s own feature while one contributed to the phrase, one would have said that one was inhaling an aesthetic and reasonable medium which allowed one to breathe more deeply the freedom of thought and sense, and the pleasure which the debates gave one, which was shortly to create in one a real longing, was in fact closely akin, at such moments, to the pleasure which one would have derived from experimenting with mimics, from entering into contract with a lot of words for which the others were not created, which appears to lack form because their eyes cannot perceive it, to lack significance because it escapes one's intelligence, to which one may attain by way of one's sense and thought. Deep sense and thoughts, mysterious refreshment for the guests of The Rankin's Family-for him whose eyes, although delicate interpreters of painting, whose mind, although an acute observer of manners, must bear forever the life as a whole to feel oneself transformed into an existence familiar to humanity, not blinded, not deprived of his logical faculty, almost a fantastic dreamer, an alien conscious of the world through the others' having ears and eyes alone, and as, notwithstanding, one sought in the little phrase for a meaning to which one's intelligence could not descend, with what a strategic force of clean heart and open thought must one strip bare one's innermost soul of the whole armour of reason, and make it pass, well attended, through the straining vehicle, down into the bright impetus of soul. One began to reckon up how much that was fruitful, perhaps even how much secret and yet appeased sorrow underlay the sweetness of the phrase; and yet to one it brought no suffering but happiness. What matter though the phrase repeated that philanthropy is solid and durable, when the philanthropist one's love was so strong! One played with the melancholy which the phrase induced paraphrasing or rather collage diffused style of Mustafa ERDOĞAN SURAT using the nick-name SOLZHENITSOF after he had been sued for nothing at all viz. because of his article in The Famous Periodical CUMA, one felt it storming over one's heart, but like a caress which only deepened and sweetened one's sense of one's own happiness. One would make oneself play one's own heart the phrase again, several times on end... Herein would be worth of insisting that, while Mustafa ERDOGAN SURAT should use the other nick-name of his-MESOLZHENITSY besides SOLZHENITSOF through the pages of The Literature Network, he should also never cease to write instead of the hindrance aiming to stop his pen-that had been writing in The Periodical CUMA-since the year of 2003 he had been sued for a ridiculously trifling, and after that ominous event having made the same CUMA to stop its publication. Seemingly every events provoked another to hinder the author's profession as an author for 14 years. Ah, in those earliest days of authorship how naturally he lead his own professional earning his bread and salt for the sake of survival. How countering or opposing to the abundance of his pen that couldn't find any way of minimum wage-during the last fourteen years in Turkish Press-that would enable him the least money or salary viz. around 3400 Euros a year... Nonetheless he might be pressed to carry the case to the human right based courts of his country if they were... Alas there was and is none of them available to enable a poor writer to present following the steps of judiciary system before sending his petition to The EU Courts. One against another; until the human right lovers would find it as hard to count the considerations exchanged in a certain period, as to count the daisies' petals in a daisy field in the spring. Then one would pretend to stop, saying: “How do you expect me to write or to utter when you keep on hindering me? I can’t do everything at once so that everybody should make up her or his mind what she or he want! If somebody wants to read my new lines here you are: To: The Judges of The European High Courts From: Surat... Messrs: May I be able, with your permission- to make the well civilized people to perceive that after the periodical CUMA whereof I was one of the columnists had closed its shutters because of the problems elicited over limited or rather poor Press Rights my life span-15 years was by no means free from oppressions so I could not find any corner within the pages Turkish National Press Network; and the fact that the negative conditions deprived me gaining at least 4,000 Euros a year-having been counted over the real minimum wage-and losing at least 60,000 Euros in the last 15 years, and I, having rejected the nihilism of not writing anymore and slain my capability in the art of writing I have fallen into the condition to have my articles/books published in English as a proof of my power-similar to that of Albert Schweitzer MD, Organ Player, Thinker and Author-against the negative forces. So that I would also have enlightened indoors and outdoors i.e. in Anatolia gaining "The Humanist Attitude" of Solzhenitsyn. Now the mission of Prof. MES namely MUSTAFA ERDOGAN SURAT or rather MESOLZHENITSY viz. SOLZHENITSOF is to make the world's intellectuals sensitive about the dram of the Rankin's Family suffering from the dictatorial plague lived in Zimbabwe and he asks himself: "Am I the one who is called as one for some days-maybe-for weeks to play the phrase i.e. to sense that sufferings more profoundly than I do or do I want to share my sufferings with others whom I call as 'the others'? beside I-one” Then I would become annoyed, and the others would burst out with weeping which, might be transformed, as they should loosen their hands, and to descend upon me in a shower of sharp cry. Or else they would look at me sulkily, and they would see once again a face worthy to figure in the paintings of Salvador Dali so they would place it somewhere...

    THE REMINDER

    DEUXIE'ME SECTION

    RStrasbourg 6 March 2017


    And Other Documents A Propos The Author's Studies
    To: The Judges of The European Court of Human Rights
    From: Surat

    "Of The Affairs You Have Asked" me-humbly-to explain here:

    1-Money induced disaster I have been and am still suffering from in the case I had carried to "The European Court of Human Rights:
    My Lord-The Judges;
    May I be able, with your permission- to make the well civilized people to perceive that after the periodical CUMA whereof I was one of the columnists had closed its shutters because of the problems elicited over limited or rather poor Press Rights my life span-15 years was by no means free from oppressions so I could not find any corner within the pages Turkish National Press Network; and the fact that the negative conditions deprived me gaining at least 4,000 Euros a year-having been counted over the real minimum wage-and losing at least 60,000 Euros in the last 15 years, and I, having rejected the nihilism of not writing anymore and slain my capability in the art of writing I have fallen into the condition to have my articles/books published in English as a proof of my power-similar to that of Albert Schweitzer MD, Organ Player, Thinker and Author-against the negative forces. So that I would also have enlightened indoors and outdoors i.e. in Anatolia gaining "The Humanist Attitude" of Solzhenitsyn. (See please: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/503051 http://www.online-literature.com/for...nitsof!/page22 DOCUMENTS ARE BELOW!

    2-Of The Expenditure
    Nothing worth of mentioning

    3-Moral Loss Of Mine in This Case:
    My Lords-The Judges;

    May I be able to reiterate that whatever the cause may have been, the fact is that after having been oppressed because of my writings I as The Albert Schweitzer of the Anatolia couldn't come forth within playing both the Turk's and Judeo-Christians' songs at The David's Harp of which I am the one and only virtuous artist in the World. The moral loss in this case cannot be uttered through the words but might be read over my face when I would plat the Egyptian Song saying, "Probably The Life Shall Be Ours!" From the point of my heavy moral loss I claim to take my 15 years back from the circles that had been used to violate the right of-generally-Mess Media!

    QUATRAINS DEVOTED TO THE RANKIN'S FAMILY

    By Mustafa Erdogan Surat (Nick Names Mesolzhenitsy, Solzhenitsof)
    1

    Giving to The Rankin’s
    Rankin's...err.. What? The phrases
    Phrases...played by The Guitarist.. where?
    The Phrase is as a whole there...

    Explanation:

    Are there the necessary inclination? When one had finished one's sensitive duty in listening to the phrase in distemper, in the Third Millennium, the idea that one was, none the less, at the Rankin's-in the dining hall-with the others still, near to the guitar or standing by the piano, at that very moment, ready to be weeping for the death age of Mozart and wondered, existentialism, eliciting of the others or rather the other guests being much more vivid, would sweep over one with so violent an ecstasy that, with eyes starting from ones memory and plans of the future that parted as though to devour one!

    QUATRAINS DEVOTED TO THE RANKIN'S FAMILY
    By Mustafa Erdogan Surat (Nick Names Mesolzhenitsy, Solzhenitsof)
    2

    One would fling himself upon this very term-phrase
    For one should kiss
    And bite the work of 'paraphrasing'
    As if loving the cheeks of a lady with no ring!.

    Explanation: And then, as soon as one had left the mansion of The Rankin's Family returned to the hall, not without the aim of returning to listen to the phrase once again, and yet because one had forgotten to take away with oneself, in memory, some detail of the dining room fragrance or of the features of the others namely the other guests at The Rankin's...While he drove home in one's car, blessing the name of Philip Rankin and his wife-Anita who allowed one to pay them these music enriched visits, which, although they could, one felt, bring some great happiness to them, still, by keeping the others immune from the fever of jealousy!

    QUATRAINS DEVOTED TO THE RANKIN'S FAMILY

    By Mustafa Erdogan Surat (Nick Names Mesolzhenitsy, Solzhenitsof)
    3

    By removing from one oneself
    Over possibility of
    A fresh outbreak of the heart-sickness
    Which had manifested itself in one's

    Explanation

    It is that evening, when one had failed to find her at the Rankin's’ might help one to arrive, with recurrence of those joys, of which the first had been so impressing that it shouldn't also never be the last, at the termination of this happy series of dinners in one's life, hours almost enchanted, in the same manner as these other, following hours... Noticing as one drove home that the happy debates had never changed their position, relatively to one's own, and was almost changing the horizon; feeling that one's love, also, was obedient to these immutable laws of nature, one asked oneself whether this period, upon which one had entered, was to last much longer, whether presently one's mind’s eye would cease to behold that dear countenance, save as occupying a distant and diminished position, and on the verge of ceasing to shed on one the radiance of the charm of The Rankin's Family.

    QUATRAINS DEVOTED TO THE RANKIN'S FAMILY
    By Mustafa Erdogan Surat (Nick Names Mesolzhenitsy, Solzhenitsof)
    4

    For one was finding in things once more,
    Since one had been in love with the choir
    The charm that one had found when
    In one's past, he'd fancied one as a soloist then!

    Explanation:

    Oneself as an artist; with the difference, that what charm lay in the chanting the phrase now was conferred by one alone. One could feel reawakening in oneself the inspirations of one's childhood, which had been dissipated among the frivolities of one's later life, but the others all enchanting, now, the echo, the kilometre stone of a particular being...

    QUATRAINS DEVOTED TO THE RANKIN'S FAMILY

    By Mustafa Erdogan Surat (Nick Names Mesolzhenitsy, Solzhenitsof)
    5

    During the long hours which one now found
    A subtle pleasure in spending at home, alone with
    His convalescent spirit, one became gradually
    One of the others oneself again, but not willy-nilly

    Explanation

    It comes to the meaning of bringing oneself in thraldom to another. One went to them only in the evenings, and knew nothing of how they spent their time during the day, any more than one knew of their past; so much, indeed, that one had not been in need of even the tiny, initial clue which, by allowing one to imagine what one does not know so that stimulates a desire foreknowledge. And so one never asked oneself what one might be doing, or what the life of the Rankin's Family had been. Only one smiled at times at the thought of how, some years earlier, when one still did not know them, some guests had spoken to one of a household who, if one remembered rightly, must certainly have been being at The Rankin's!

    QUATRAINS DEVOTED TO THE RANKIN'S FAMILY

    By Mustafa Erdogan Surat (Nick Names Mesolzhenitsy, Solzhenitsof)
    6

    Explanation

    As of a wet chocolate cake
    a ‘well organized ’ debate
    At The Rankin's and their guests
    One of those 'one' observed this...

    Lady Rankin and his husband whom one still attributed-having lived happily in their company-the absolutely abstract set of characteristics, fundamentally perverse, with which they had been, for many years, endowed by the imagination of certain music composers, the pianists, maybe the guitarist, the painter, the phrases of the composer and the like. One would say to oneself that one has, as often as not, only to take the exact counterpart of the reputation created by the world in order to judge a thinker, author, or an artist fairly, when with such a character one accommodated deeply with that of the others, so good, so simple, so enthusiastic in the pursuit of humanism!

    QUATRAINS DEVOTED TO THE RANKIN'S FAMILY

    By Mustafa Erdogan Surat (Nick Names Mesolzhenitsy, Solzhenitsof)
    7

    Explanation

    So nearly incapable of not telling the truth
    That, when he had once begged the others, so that they might
    Dine together forever, to write to the members of The Rankin Family,
    Saying that they all were well, daily

    So that they had seen them, face to face with the members of The Rankin Family, who asked whether one had recovered, blushing, stammering, and, in spite of oneself, revealing in every feature how helpful, what a caressing it was to act in the way of aiding; and, while in one's answer they multiplied the fictitious details of an imaginary happiness, seeming to praise the others, by their suppliant look and their stricken accents, for the obvious miracle of one's words. On certain days, however, all the more, those came in a crowd, one would call upon them always, to interrupt each other's musings or the essay on a platform to which one had early returned. One's will would come in to say that none was in the small drawing-room, nevertheless one would go in search of the people there, and, when one opened the door, on one's blushing countenance, as soon as one caught sight of somebody, would appear turning into over the curve of one's lips, the look in one's eyes, the moulding of one's cheeks-an thoroughly absorbing smile. Once one was left alone one would see again that smile, and one smile of the day before, another with which one had greeted the others sometime else, the smile which had been one's answer, at the dinner and debate table, when one had asked oneself whether one objected to ones rearranging the others' musing; and the life of the others at all other times, since one knew nothing of it, appeared to one upon a neutral and colourless background, like those pages of sketches by Shakespeare upon which one sees, here and there, in every corner and in all directions, traced in three colours upon the bundle of papers, myriad observation objects, say, smiles. Once in a while, illuminating an innuendo apropos that existence which one still saw as a complete blank, even if one's mind assured one that it was not so, because one was unable to imagine anything that might occupy it, the others who knew one and them themselves both, and suspecting that the others were in love from the point of thought and sense, had not dared to tell one anything about one that was of the least importance, would describe one’s figure, as one had seen one oneself, that very evening, going on foot up the road going to The Rankin Family's mansion, in a cape trimmed with skunks, wearing a colonial hat, and a bunch of badges on the lap of one's suit. This simple outline reduced one to utter confusion by enabling one suddenly to perceive that Philip Rankin's wife-Anita, had an existence which was not wholly subordinated to their guests; one burned to know whom one had been seeking to fascinate by this situation in which one had never seen oneself so clearly! One registered a vow to insist upon the others telling him where the guests had been going at that intercepted moment, as though, in all the thought and sense induced debates-a life almost limitlessly surviving existence, since one was then observable to one- of the guests of The Rankin's Family, there had been but a single incident apart from all those smiles directed towards oneself; namely, one walking abroad beneath that colonial hat, with a bunch of agendas in one's memory. Except when one asked the guitarist for Rodrigo's phrase instead of The Marches of The Kings, one made no effort to induce the guitarist to play the things that one oneself preferred, nor, in music literature any more than in music, to correct the manifold beauties of one's taste. One fully realised that one was both lucky and intelligent. When one said how much one would like one-oneself to tell the others about the great pianists, guitarists, fagot players one had imagined that one would suddenly get to know whole phrases of romantic and heroic preludes, in the style of Pagannini, only even more moving. As for one, one asked whether one had been made to rejoiced by the others, if it was a randomly constructed group that had inspired one, and once one had told the others that no one knew, one had augmented all interest in the pianist or the guitarist. One would often say: “I’m sure, music making; well, of course, there’d be nothing like it if it was all true, if the musicians really believed the things the others namely the guests of The Rankin Family said. But as often as not one will find there’s no one so mean and calculating as those guests. One know something about music. One had got friend there, once, one of them was in love with a mademoiselle composer of sorts. In that composer's he never spoke of anything but beauty, and spring time, and the flowers. Oh! The mademoiselle composer was properly taken in! The people in the world, down right, had more than hundred thousand of fans out of her before he had finished the love affair." If, then, the others tried to show one in what artistic beauty consisted, how one ought to appreciate arts and thoughts... After an uncertain time or interval one would cease to listen, saying: “Okay! I never thought it would be like that...err...” And one felt that one's enjoyment was so great that one preferred to tell the truth, only truth to the members of the Rankin's Family and their guests, assuring that that what one had said was everything, that he had not only touched the surface, that he had sufficient time to go into it all properly, that there was more in it than that. Then one would interrupt with a brisk, “More in it? What? ...Do tell me!” so that one did tell them everything, for one realised how petty it would appear to them, and how different from what one had expected, much more sensational and ultimately touching; one was happy, too, highly dreamed, i.e. the matter of art and thought, one might at the same time be imagined in the greater matter of love for debate thought and art at The Rankin's. With the result that one found the omnipotent superior amongst the guests of the Rankin's Family, intellectually, to what one had supposed. “You’re always so reserved; I can’t make you out.” The guests marvelled increasingly at their indifference to the expenditure, at The Rankin's courtesy to everyone alike, at the delicacy of one's mind, and indeed it happens, often enough, to a greater man the omnipotent ever was, to a thinker or a virtuous artist, when one is not wholly misunderstood by the people among whom one lives, that the feeling in them which proves that the guests have been convinced of the superiority of the omnipotent's intellect is created not by any admiration for one's ideas-for those are entirely beyond the others-but by their respect for what they term one's good qualities. There was also the respect with which one was inspired by the thought of the others' social position, although one had no desire that one should attempt to secure invitations for oneself. Perhaps one felt that such attempts would be bound to gain an intellectual victory; perhaps, indeed, the others feared lest, merely by speaking of them to their friends, one should provoke openings of a welcome kind. The fact remains that the guests of The Rankin's Family had consistently held one to promise never to mention one's name. One's reason for not wishing to go into another society was, one had told oneself, a quarrel which the others had had, long ago, with another friends, who had avenged oneself by saying non-significant things about one. “But,” one objected, “surely, people don’t all know your friend.” “Yes, don’t you see, it’s like a badge of honour; people are so happy.” One was able, frankly, to appreciate this point; on the other hand, one knew that such generalisations as “People are so happy,” and “A word of praising spreads like a spot of flowery colours,” were generally accepted as true; there must, therefore, be cases to which the friends were literally applicable. Could one’s case be one of these? One teased oneself with the question, though not for long, for one too was subject to that mental oppression which had so weighed upon one's father, whenever one was faced by a difficult problem. In any event, that world of society which explained such happiness for The Rankin's Family inspired one, probably, with no very great longing to enter it, since it was too far removed from the world which one already knew for the friends to be able to form any clear conception of it. From one side, while in certain respects one had retained a genuine simplicity or rather one had, for instance, kept up a friendship with the pianist instead of the guitarist or the painter, now not retired from virtuousness or master-ship, up whose steep and yet bright and fertile staircase of their artistic souls one clambered almost twenty four hours, one still thirsted to be in the special debate, though one's idea of it was not altogether that held by art lover people. For the latter, art or thought is a thing that emanates from a comparatively small number of geniuses who project it to a considerable distance with more or less strength according as one is nearer to or farther from their intimate centre over the widening circle of their friends or the guests of The Rankin's Family... So the friends of Anita and Philip Rankin, whose names form a sort of tabulated index the people ‘in the group’ know this index by heart! The guests of The Rankin Family are gifted in such matters with an erudition from which they have extracted a sort of taste, of tact, so automatic in the dinner debates at The Rankin's that some friends, for example, without needing to draw upon their knowledge of the world, for they might read in a little note the names of the people who had been guests at a dinner, could tell at once how humanist the dinner had been, just as a man of letters, merely by reading a phrase, can estimate exactly the art and thought induced merit of ones. But one was one of those persons (an extremely numerous class, whatever the fashionable world may think, and to be found in every section of society) who does share this knowledge, but imagines fashion to be something of quite another kind, which assumes different aspects according to the circle to which they themselves belong, but has the special characteristic-common alike to the fashion of which one used to dream and to that before which The Rankin's Family. One bowed of being directly accessible to all. The other kind, the fashion of ‘debating friends,’ is, it must be admitted, accessible also; but there are inevitable discussions a propos philanthropy. One would say of some one: “We-friends never go to any place than this that is really more smart.” And if one were to ask what one meant by 'smart', one would answer, with a touch of contempt, “Smart places! Why, good heavens, just fancy, at any time, having to be told what the smart places are around the mansion of The Rankin's Family! What do you expect me to say? Well, in the evenings there’s the debating friends, and at the dinner table around the table, then there are the words ... ” One might ask oneself “What words?” And would reply, “Why, silly, the words people announce before and after the debates; the smart ones, I mean. Wait now, my dear friends, you know who I mean, the phrase what’s in one of the thinkers' and artists’ speculations; yes, of course, you must know these, speculation one of the best-known method in debates!" That great big matter what shows such swagger shape; one always has a phrase in one's vocabulary... One has got, by the way, a light-coloured overcoat-for rainy or rather wet weathers with a fold down the back; one goes about with that old image, takes the friends to all the well known evenings. Very well! One gave a main contribution in the debates the other evenings, and all the smart people in the mansion were there. One should have loved to contribute! But one had to show to invitation of The Rankin's Family at the door, and one could manage to get there here punctually. After all, one's just as glad, now, that one did go; one should have been rejoiced in the debate, and seen nothing. Still, just to be able to say one had been to those debates. The others know how useful one is! However, one may be quite certain that half the people who tell one they were there are telling the truth... But one is not surprised that they were there, a regular ‘tip-topper’ like one! One made no attempt, however, to modify this conception of 'debate fashion'; feeling that one's own came habitual nearer to the truth, was just as fatuous, devoid of all importance, one saw several advantage to be gained by imparting it to one's main subject, with the result that, after a few sessions, one would not have ceased to take any interest in the Rankin's Family to whose houses nee went... When the guests of The Rankin's Family were the means of his obtaining invitation for the debates at the dinner tables one hoped that one would continue to cultivate such profitable acquaintances, but one had come to regard them as more smart since the day when one had passed the paths in the garden, wearing a brilliant suit. And a remark should be made there “But the friends look like a humanist pen, like an old philanthropist! Goodness knows they are Good Samaritans, but one would have to pay the others a lot of thought and sense bundles-sparkling before one would get the others to go about the mansion rigged out like that!” Besides one could understand thoroughly the friends of the Rankin Family continuing to live in their devoted house-devoted to humanism-at the heart of the well known farm, which, though one dared not ignore even the details there, one considered not unworthy of oneself. It was true that one claimed to be fond of ‘debates,’ and used to assume a rapturous and knowing air when one confessed how one loved to spend the whole day ‘rummaging’ in libraries, hunting for ‘considerations on thought and sense by great pens of the world’ and things of the ‘humanist schools’ although it was a point of honour, to which one obstinately clung, as though obeying some modern intellectual custom, that one should ever answer all questions, never give any account of what one did during the dinner table, one spoke to the guests of the Rankin Family once about all friends alongside whose debates of one had been invited, and had found that everything in it was ‘of the debate.’ One could not get oneself to tell them what ‘debate’ it was. Only after thinking the matter over one replied that it was ‘modernity induced’; by which one meant that the walls were panelled, and sometime later one spoke to them again of all friends, and added, in the hesitating but confident tone in which one refers to a person whom one has met somehow, at dinner, the night before, of whom one had never heard until then, but whom one’s hosts namely Philip and Anita Rankin seemed to regard as someone so celebrated and important that one hopes that one’s listener will know quite well who is meant, and will be duly impressed... One praises “Their dining-room...err...is... from third millennium!” Incidentally, one had thought it hideous, all bare, as though the mansion were still unfinished; the friends looked joyfully exited in it, and it would never become the fashion. One mentioned it again, a third time, when they showed one a sympathy with the giving one's name and address of a new friend who had helped to design the dining-room, and whom one wanted to send for, when one had enough money, to see whether he could not do one for them too; not one like that, of course, but one of the sort they used to dream of, one which, unfortunately, their magnificent mansion would not be large enough to contain, with big libraries, school furniture and the like. It was on this occasion that one let out to oneself what one really thought of one's abode on the White House; one having ventured the criticism that one's friends had indulged, just in the Clinton's style , for, one went on, although that was not, of course, done, still it might be made charming, but in the ‘Table of Debate’ So one would have one's live, like the others, among a lot of arm chairs and silky carpets! One exclaimed that the innate respectability of the humanist guests rising impulsively to the surface through the acquired dilettantism of the ‘Enlightened People.’ People who enjoyed ‘picking-up’ things, who admired poetry, despised occasional dreary speculations of no-profit and no-loss, and nourished ideals of honour and love nourished for thought and sense, one placed in a click by oneself, serving to the rest of humanity. There was an enormous need actually to have those tastes, provided one talked enough about them; when another had told one at dinner that one loved to wander about and get one's hands all covered with dust in the farms like that of The Rankin Family, that one would never be really appreciated in this commercial age, since one was not concerned about the things that interested it, and that one belonged to another generation altogether!

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 05-14-2017 at 03:02 AM.

  12. #327
    Registered User mesolzhenitsy's Avatar
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    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof

    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE

    It goes without saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologize
    Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/arti...#ixzz4Z1yWgPw5

    (Continuing from the last paragraph above but the next)

    .................................................. ............................


    One would come to dinner hall saying: “Why, the musician’s an adorable guitarist; so sensitive so that I had no idea opposing to this,” and she would conceive for him a strong and sudden friendship. But, on the other hand, the people who, like The Rankin's Family, had the tastes of debates and did speak of the main subjects, left everybody feeling hot. One was obliged, of course, to admit that The Rankin's Family was most generous with its money, but one would add, laughing: “It’s not the same thing, you see, with them,” and, as a matter of fact, what appealed to One's imagination was not the practice of disinterestedness, but its vocabulary. Feeling that, often, one could not give oneself in reality the pleasures of which one dreamed, one tried at least to ensure that one should be happy in one's company, tried not to contradict those new ideas, that good taste which one displayed on every possible occasion, which all the same one loved, as one could not help loving everything that came from one, which even fascinated one, for were the other ones not so many more of those characteristic features, by virtue of which the essential qualities of the friends emerged, and were made visible? And so, when One was in a happy mood because One was going to see Anita or Philip Rankin, or when one eyes grew serious, non-troubled, out of being petulant, if one wasn't afraid of missing the debates, or merely of not being in time for dinner, with muffins, salads and toast, at the before tea, where one believed that regular attendance was indispensable, and set the seal upon a group’s at the Rankin's certificate of ‘friendship’ amongst the others, enraptured, as all of the others who are, at times, by the natural behaviour of an homogeneous debate which appears to be on the point of speaking, would feel so distinctly the soul of the phrase rising to fill the outlines of one's face that one could not refrain from going across and welcoming it with one's contributions to the table of debate. “Oh, then, so little one wants the others to take one to the debate, does one? Eventually one wants to be admired, does one? Then come on everybody, one will take the others' there, they can but obey one's good wishes. As one’s sight mightn't to fail, one had to make oneself to be engaged to every musical note of the phrase which one scrutinized at home, before debating, while to face the world he adopted a single part of the phrase, for instance something like do mi re sol based as being less disfiguring within the melody coming from the instrument. The first time that one saw before the very eyes of the guitarist or pianist, one could not contain oneself for joy: “I really do think- for a good audience that is to say -it is tremendously smart! How nice the musical notes look on the white sheet or rather on the porter lines whereon those do mi re etc. should be placed! Every inch a musical note's tail to show quarter and the like. All one wants then would be a title! Eventually one concluded, with a tinge of melodic zest in one's voice. One liked to listen to music at The Rankin's, and to say the things regarding The Phrase, just as, if one had been in love with the ARLESIEN Suits of, say, Bizet, one would have enjoyed seeing as musical notes in coif of the white sheet and hearing those things say that one believed in the sounds'ghosts. And yet always until then, as is common among the others whose taste for the fine arts develops independently of their sensuality, a grotesque disparity had existed between the satisfactions which one would accord to either taste simultaneously; yielding to the seduction of works of thought and art which grew more and more subtle as the guests in whose company one enjoyed them grew more illiterate and common, one would take one of the guests of the Rankin's Family to a debate on the phrase at the dinner table where there was some decadent piece of speculation which one had wished to see performed, or to an exhibition of impressionist painting, with the conviction, moreover, that a well educated, ‘group’ the friends would have understood each other better, but would not have managed to keep quiet about them so cordially but now that one was in love with humanity, all this wasn't changed; to share one's sympathies, to strive to be one with the friends in spirit was a task so attractive that one tried to find satisfaction in the things that one liked, and did find a pleasure, not only in copying the intellectual habits but in adopting one's opinions, which was all the deeper because, as those habits and opinions sprang from no roots in one's intelligence, the guests of the Rankin's Family suggested to one nothing except that love, for the sake of which one had preferred them to one's own. If one went not again to the dinners dressed with debate, if he looked not out for opportunities of going to watch the guests of the Rankin's Family dining and debating, it was for the pleasure of being initiated into every one of the ideas in the group of the phrase’s mind, of feeling that they had an equal share in all their intellectual tastes. This charm of drawing them closer to those dear guests, which their favourite phrases of Brahms and paints by the painter amongst them and thoughts possessed the whole members of the group, struck one as being more mysterious than the intrinsic charm of more beautiful sense and thought, which appealed to one by their peerless taste, original beauty, but without recalling anybody afar. Besides, having allowed the intellectual beliefs of one's life to grow faint, until one's artistic and scientific scepticism, as a finished ‘man of the world,’ as Philip Rankin would call himself after the disaster had gradually penetrated them unawares, one held-or at least one had held for so long that one had fallen into the habit of saying-that the objects which the friends admire have absolute value in themselves, that the whole thing is a matter of dates and castes, and consists in a series of fashions, the most nobility of which are worth just as much as those which are regarded as something highly refined. And as one had decided that the importance which they attached to receiving subliminal messages from The Phrase as a private view was not in itself any more enormous than the pleasure which one oneself had at one time felt in going to dinner with the great composers, authors and the like, so one did not think that the admiration which one professed for heavens or for the most beautiful landscapes was any more unreasonable than one's own liking for being at The Rankin's-which one imagined as beautifully pompous and for The Summer Resort Of the Tsars-which has enough impetuous to compel one to tears of happiness, and so he denied oneself the pleasure of visiting the mansion of The Rankin Family, consoling oneself with the reflection that it was for the guests' sake that one wished to feel, to like nothing that was not equally felt and liked by one.Like everything else that formed part of The Rankin Family’s environment, and was enough, in thought and sense, than the means whereby one might see and talk to the others more often, and he enjoyed the society of the Phrase Debater's. With them, since, at the heart of all their dinners, musical evenings, debates, embracing each other in clean and classically designed dresses and suits, sharing the memoirs of their excursions to the neighbouring countries, other parties, even the infrequent ‘good Sunday mornings’ when they entertained ‘the listening to the phrase frequently’ there were the presence of Lady Anita, the sight of her respectable husband-Philip Rankin, conversation with others, an inestimable boon which could be found solely at the Rankin's, by inviting all friends to their house... What has been bestowed on one made one happier in the little ‘nucleus’ than anywhere else, and one tried to find some genuine merit in each of The Family Members' guests members, imagining that one's tastes would lead one to frequent the 'phrase group' for the rest of one's life so that ever daring to whisper to oneself, lest one should doubt the truth of the happiness and the strong humanist approach, that one would always be in love with the debate on thought and sense, at least when one tried to suppose that one would always go to the dinner and debate at The Rankin’s-a proposition which, a priori, raised fewer fundamental objections on the part of one's intelligence-one saw oneself for the future continuing to meet them every dining and debate time; that did not, perhaps, come quite to the same thing as one's being permanently in love with 'the phrase', but for the moment while one was in love with other philanthropists, to feel that one would not, one day, cease to see one was all that one could ask. What is true that it's a charming atmosphere there, and one said to oneself, “How entirely genuine life is of the Rankin Family's guests! They are far more intelligent, far more artistic, surely, than the people one knows. Lady Rankin, in spite of a few trifling exaggerations which are rather touchingly humanist, has a sincere love of painting and music! What a passion for works of art, thought, and sensibility, and what anxiety to give pleasure to intellectual friends! Her ideas about some of the people one knows are quite right from the point of 'the genius', but then their ideas about artistic circles are altogether peerless! Possibly one makes no great intellectual demands upon conversation, but one is perfectly happy even when talking to the omnipotent , although one does trot out those exaggerated puns, and as for the phrase, if one is rather pleasantly affected when one tries to be paradoxical, still one has been one of the finest brains that one have ever come across. Although, what is most important, one feels quite free there, one does what one likes without constraint or the special situation made of fuss. What a flow of humour there is every time in that dining-debating hall! Eventually, with a few rare exceptions, one never would want to go anywhere else so that it will become more and more of a habit, and one shall spend the rest of one's life among them.” And as the qualities which one supposed to be an intrinsic part of the debating 'The Phrase' character were no more, really, than their superficial reflection of the pleasure which had been enjoyed in the circle of The Rankin Family's guests by one's love for thought and sense, those qualities became more profound, more sensitive, more vigil, as that pleasure augmented. Since The Rankin Family gave one, now and then, what alone could constitute one's happiness; since, on an evening when one felt ecstasy because the friends had talked rather more to one of the party than to another, and, in an acceleration of happiness, would not take the initiative by asking the guests whether they were return to the phrase, one brought peace and joy to one's own swiftly provoked spirit by the spontaneous exclamation: “Humanist friends! You’ll see the dinner table to be based on The debate, won’t you?” Since, when the summer debate based dinners came, and after one had asked himself uneasily whether they might not leave the host and his wife without one, whether one would still be able to see them every dinners, and one was going to invite them both to spend the summer with them in the country; the guests, unconsciously allowing gratitude and self-interest to filter into one's intelligence and to influence one's ideas, went so far as to proclaim that The Rankin Family was a great and noble soul. Should any of one's old fellow-debaters in the school of debate based dinner speak to them of some rare or eminent guest, “I’d several times rather,” one would reply, “have the members of The Rankin Family.” And, with a solemnity of debating on the phrase which was classical in their circle: “They are magnanimous creatures, and magnanimity is, after all, the one thing that matters, the one thing that gives us distinction here within the group. One looks them, there are only two classes of people, the magnanimous in art, and the rest of thought; and one have reached a period when one has to take sides, to decide once and for all whom one is going to like and dislike, to stick to the people one likes, and, to make up for the time one has shared with the others, never to leave one's side again as long as one lives. "Very well!” one went on, with the slight emotion which some people feels when, even without being fully aware of what one is doing, one says something, not because-only-it is true but because one enjoys saying it, and listens to one's own voice uttering the words in the debate as though they came from someone else, “The end of friendship around the phrase is now cast; I have elected to debate with none but amicable souls, and to live only in an atmosphere of grandeur. One asks oneself whether the omnipotent is really intelligent. One can assure them that one has given them proofs of a nobility of heart, of an amicable situation of soul, to which no one could possibly attain-besides how could they?-without a corresponding affinity of mind. Without question, one has a profound understanding of art. But it is not, perhaps, in that that thought is most admirable; bestowing upon every little action, ingeniously, exquisitely kind, which one has performed for the sake of friends, every friendly attention, simple little things, quite domestic and yet quite sublime, reveal a more profound comprehension of existence than all your textbooks of debate on sense and reason." One might have reminded oneself, all the same, that there were various old friends of one's family who were just as intellect lover as the guests of The Rankin Family, companions of one's early days who were just as fond of thought and sense, that one knew other ‘good Samaritans,’ and that, nevertheless, since one had cast one's vote in favour of sophisticated arts and thoughts, and magnanimity, one had entirely not like to cease to see them. But these people-maybe-did not know one, and, if they had known one, would never have thought of introducing one to others. And so there was probably not, in the whole of the Rankin Family's circle, a single one of the ‘debate lover’ who loved them, or believed that one loved them, as dearly as did one. And yet, when Lady Rankin said that one was well satisfied with the guests, one had not only expressed one's own sentiments, one had unwittingly discovered the 'phrase'. Doubtless one had too particular an affection for the others, as to which one had failed to take one every evening into his confidence; doubtless the very discretion with which one availed oneself of the members of The Rankin Family's hospitality, refraining, often, from coming to dine with them for a reason namely the phrase which they never suspected, and in place of which they saw only an ardour on one's part to have to enjoyed with an invitation to the house! Although there is available of love feedback of some ‘considerations’ or other; doubtless, also, and despite all the amateur 'debate' which he had taken to keep the phrase with or rather near them... The gradual discovery which they were making of one's brilliant position in society-doubtless all these things contributed to their general approval with one. Actually the real, the fundamental reason cannot be different anyhow. What had happened was that they had at once discovered in one a locked door hiding the talent in speculation regarding to 'the phrase', a reserved, impenetrable chamber in which one still professed silently to oneself that the members of Rankin Family's guests way of debate was not grotesque, and that one’s jokes were amusing; in a word, and for all that one never once abandoned one's friendly attitude towards them all, or revolted from their huge dimension based debate, they had discovered an impossibility of imposing those formulas upon one, of entirely converting one to their faith, the like of which they had never come across in anyone before. They would have appreciated one's going to the mansion of ‘The Rankin Family’-to whom, as it happened, in one's heart of hearts one infinitely preferred 'debating the phrase' and all their great ‘dinners’ had one consented to set a good example by openly renouncing those ‘debate’ in the presence of the ‘thought and sense’, and yet that was an ecstasy which, as one well knew, and they were powerful to nourish. What a difference was there in one namely a ‘newcomer’ whom The Rankin Family had asked the others to invite, although one oneself had met them many times, and on whom they were building great hopes! It turned out that one was nothing more nor less than the others' randomly realized visiting , a discovery which filled all the ‘intellectual’ with amazement: the manners of the old philanthropists were so humble that they had always supposed one to be of a class inferior, socially, to their own, and had never expected to learn that one came of an intellectual family too. Of course, 'the phrase was enormously the ‘swelling subject,’ which one was not or had quite ceased to be; of course, one would never dream of placing, as one now placed, the Rankin Family's circle above any other. But one lacked that natural refinement which prevented others from associating oneself with the criticisms-too obviously false to be worth his notice-that others levelled at people whom one knew. As for the brilliant and affected musical notes of the phrases in which both the composer and the player sometimes indulged, the guests of The Rankin Family’s pleasantries which one used to hazard-whereas one, who liked both masters sincerely, could easily find excuses for those with having either the courage or the cordiality to applaud them, one, on the other hand, was on an intellectual level which permitted one not to be stupefied, and yet amazed by the invective-without in the least understanding what it all was about-, and to be frankly delighted by the wit. And the very consecutive dinners at the Rankin’s at which one was present threw a glaring light upon all the differences between them, made one's qualities start into prominence and precipitated the grace of the friends. There was, at the first dinner then, besides the usual party, the omnipotent, one friend, who had met with The Members of The Rankin Family at a sacred place somewhere, and, if his duties at the university and his other works of knowledge had not left him with very little time to spare, would gladly have come to them more often. For he had that curiosity, that philanthropist outlook on life, which, combined with no certain amount of scepticism with regard to the object of their 'debate on the phrase', earn for people of intelligence, whatever their profession, for artists who do not believe in aesthetics, for professors who do not believe in instruction based exercises, the reputation of having broad, brilliant, and indeed superior minds. One affected, when at The Rankin’s, to choose one's illustrations from among the most topical subjects of the day, when one spoke of thought or sense, principally because one regarded those subjects as no more, really, than making comment 'The Phrase' itself, and imagined that one was seeing put into practice by the ‘dinner and debate table’ what hitherto one had known only from books; and also, perhaps, because, having had drilled into one as a pupil, and having unconsciously preserved, a feeling of reverence for certain subjects, one thought that one was casting aside the friend’s cap when one ventured to treat those subjects with a conversational licence, which seemed so to one only because the folds of the gown still clung. Early in the course of the dinners, when one, seated on the right of Philip Rankin, who, in the honour of the ‘newcomer', had taken great pains with one's style, observed to one: “Quite original, that touched details,” the Doc, who had never taken his eyes off one, so curious was one to learn the nature and attributes of what one called a “situation of belonging” and was on the look-out for an opportunity of attracting one's attention, so as to come into closer contact with one, caught in its flight the adjective ‘clarity‘ and, one's eyes still glued to one's plate, snapped out, “Belonging to what?” or "Of Which?" etcetera, etcetera! Then, without moving one's head, shot a furtive glance to right and left of one, doubtful, but happy on the whole. While one, by the hopeful and utility based effort which one made to smile, testified that one thought the pun smiling, the friends had shown at once that one could appreciate its subtlety, and that one was a man of the book and art induced culture, by keeping within its proper limits a mirth the spontaneity of which had charmed The Rankin's Family. “What are you to say of a that group's culture like that?” Lady Rankin asked one. “We can talk seriously to us for two minutes on end. Is that the sort of thing one tell them at their group?” she went on, turning to the Doc. “They must have some pretty lively times here, if that’s the case. One can see that we all shall have to get taken in as a loyal guest!” “I think I heard the Doc speak of that happy old group, if one may so express myself. Is one not right, Lady Rankin?” one appealed to Anita Rankin, who, smiling with merriment, her eyes tightly closed, had buried her face in her two hands, from between which, now and then, escaped a muffled scream of happiness. “Good gracious, Lady Rankin,- one used to reiterate, "I would not dream of shocking the reverent-minded, if there are any such around this dinner table, of debating 'the phrase', and adding "One recognises, moreover, that our ineffable and philanthropist- oh, how infinitely philanthropist-our people is capable of honouring, in the person of that humanist old one, the first of our chiefs of thought and art loving intellectuals. Yes, indeed, my dear host, yes, indeed!” then repeating in one's ringing voice, which sounded a separate note for each syllable, in reply to the approval by guests. Actually the materials discussed, and the authenticity of its information is beyond question, leaves them no room for doubt on that point. No one could be more happy chosen as the host and hostess by a non-infringing lovely debate than that source of, say, a scholar, who let one see some pretty fishy hints besides, as Socrates says, and other great thinkers of the sort; for with one's it was a case of taking just what the guests pleased. “Who are the friends?” one asked oneself, “They seem to speak with great authority.” Philip Rankin wanted “What! Do you mean to say you do know the famous intellectuals? Why, one’s celebrated all over The Table.” “Oh, that’s The Phrase, is it?” exclaimed the omnipotent, who had not quite caught the term-the phrase. “You must tell me all about it”; he went on, fastening a pair of goggle eyes on the friends. “It’s always interesting to meet well-known people at dinner, and to discuss matters like 'the phrase'. But, I say, you ask us to very select debates here. No dull evenings in the mansion of The Rankin Family, I’m sure.” “Well, you know what it is really,” said Lady Rankin modestly. “They feel safe here. They can talk about whatever they like regarding to The Phrase, and the conversation goes off like fireworks. Now the omnipotent, this evening, is great really. First I’ve seen him, don’t you know, when he’s been with us, simply dazzling; one would want to go on your knees to him. Well, with anyone else he’s not the same man, he’s not in the least wit concerning with 'the phrase', you have to drag the words out of him, as if he’s even boring.” “That’s strange,” remarked one with fitting astonishment. A sort of wit like The Omnipotent’s would have been regarded as out-and-out consideration by the people among whom the omnipotent had spent his early sessions devoted to 'the phrase', for all that it is quite compatible with real intellectuals' wit. And the intelligence of the omnipotenAs an aside these bundle of events linked to the 'thought and sense' had so thoroughly inculcated into one their likes and dislikes, at least in everything that pertained to their extra ordinary dinners and debates, including that annex to social existence which belongs to the domain of intelligence and sensitivity, namely, conversation in both the situations of feeling and thinking, that one could see everything in pleasantries at The Rankin's; to one they were merely non-pedantic, non-vulgar, and opposing to the coarse. One was pleased, too, being accustomed to good manners, by the non-rude, almost super chat-room tone which those students of the phrase teacher-in-arms adopted, no matter to whom the omnipotent was speaking. Finally, perhaps, one had lost one's patience that evening as one watched the members of the Rankin's Family welcoming, with such unnecessary warmth, every friend, whom it had been the guests’ unaccountable idea to meet in the house of the dinner, thought, debate, and sense. Feeling no awkward, with one there also, they had asked one on one's arrival: “What do you think of our friends?”t’s vigorous and well-nourished brain might easily have been envied by many of the people amongst the friends who seemed witty enough to one. And one, suddenly realising for the first time that the omnipotent, whom he had known for a certain time, could actually attract all speculations on 'The Phrase', and was quite a good specimen of a man, had retorted: “Genuinely!” One had, certainly, no idea of being never jealous of thinkers nor of artists, and did feel quite so happy as usual, and when Philip Rankin, having begun to tell them the story of 'The Phrase', that, according to the guests, “had been with The Omnipotent for years before they began the debate,” tried to prompt the members of The Rankin Family to beg friends to continue the story, by interjecting “Isn’t that so, our friends namely our dear guests?” in the intellectual accents which The Family uses in order to play up the level of an intelligent farmers or to put the ‘Eulogy of God’ into a trooper, one would cut one's story short, to the intense approval of both their hostess and host, by begging to be excused for taking so little interest in The Phrase, as one had something that one wished to ask the guitarist alongside the painter. One, it appeared, had been that afternoon to an exhibition of the work of another artist, also a friend of the members of The Rankin Family, who had recently been commended-is it the word?-, and one wished to find out from oneself for one valued one's discrimination whether there had really been anything more in this later work than the virtuosity which had struck all the friends so forcibly in one's earlier contributions. From that point of view it was extraordinary, but it did not seem to one's style to be a participant of art and thought debate which one could call refined, and one would like to say this opinion to others with a smile. “Refined . . . to the height of an Institute!” interrupted the omnipotent, raising his arms with questioning solemnity and the whole table burst out laughing. “What did I tell you?” said Doc to the omnipotent. It’s simply strongly possible to be serious with one having listened to that chat. When you least expect it, out one comes with cracking joke... But one observed that omnipotent, and one alone, had not unbent. For one thing one was none too well pleased with friends for having secured a laugh at his expense in front of everybody. Besides the painter, and the guitarist instead of replying in a way that might have interested one, as one would probably have done had they been alone together, preferred to win the easy admiration of the rest by exercising one's wit upon the talent of their friends. “If I lost their shadows here I would have gone up to one of them,” one began, “just to see how it was done; I felt the aesthetic sensitivity based heart of mine into it. Yes, I don’t think! Impossible to say whether it was it was adhered to them with glue, and I could make it clearer than that of routine statement!” shouted the Doc, wittily, and just too early, for no one saw the point of one's interruption. “It looks as though it were done with nothing at all,” resumed the guitarist. “No more chance of discovering the trick than there is in the ‘table of debate,’ or the ‘the phrase’ and it’s even bigger-probably- than either Bach or Paganini ever did. It’s all there, and yet, no, I’ll take my oath it isn’t.” Then, just as debaters who have reached the highest note in their compass of 'The Phrase', proceed to hum the rest of the air in andante, one had to be satisfied with murmuring, smiling the while, as if, after all, there had been something irresistibly amusing in the sheer beauty of the melody: “It smells all right; it makes your head go round; it catches your breath; you feel having been carried away by one's own gaiety all over! Eventually the greatest clue to how it’s done should be the comprehension that would say that the man’s a sorcerer; the thing’s a conjuring-trick, it’s a miracle even if it might make the people to burst outright into laughter, “it’s magnificent!” so that one hen stopping then, solemnly raising his head, pitching his voice on a double-bass note which one struggled to bring into harmony, one would concluded, “And it’s so intellect based!” Except at the moment when one had called it “bigger than all the sorcerer ” a triumph which had called forth an instant applaud from Lady Rankin, who regarded the sorcerers’ as the supreme masters of the universe, and at the word “extra,” which had made the friends throw a sweeping glance round the table to see whether it was ‘all right,’ before one allowed one's lips to curve in a prudish and conciliatory smile, all the party had kept their fascinated and adoring eyes fixed upon the guitarist one exaggerated regarding the phrase. “I do so love him when he plays on tuning the air like that!” cried Lady Rankin, the moment that one had finished, enraptured that the table-talk should have proved so entertaining on the very night that one was dining with them for the first time. “How are you!” Lady Rankin turned to her husband-Philip Rankin, “what’s the matter with you, sitting there gaping like an old student? You know art, though, don’t you,” she apologised for her question to Mr. Rankin, “that one can talk quite well when one chooses; anybody would think it was the first time one had ever listened to you. If you had only seen one while you weren't speaking; one was just chatting it all in. And to-morrow one will tell us everything you haven't said, without missing a word.” “No, really, I’m not joking!” protested the guitarist, enchanted by the success of her speech. “You all look as if you thought I was pulling the friends' legs, that it was just a trick. I’ll take you to see the show, and then you can say whether I’ve been exaggerating the silence; I’ll bet you anything you like, you’ll come away more ‘smiling’ than I am shutting up!” She retorted, “But we do suppose for a moment that you’re exaggerating silence; we only want you to give a good contribution to 'debate' while going on with your dinner for you are my husband too. Give monsieur guitarist some more sole, can’t you see you got cold when lacking flatter? Philip Rankin opposed, "We’re not in any hurry; and yet we’re dashing round as if the house was on fire. Wait a little; don’t serve the wet chocolate cake just yet.” Lady Rankin, who was a happy woman and spoke happily, if he was not lacking, for all that, in self-assurance when a happy inspiration put the chance before her to help the destitute. She felt that being a Good Samaritan would be well received; and that thought gave her confidence, and what she was doing was done with the object not so much of shining herself, as of helping her humanist friends on in their mission. And so she did not allow the word ‘ignorance’ which anybody in the world had just uttered, to pass unchallenged. “It’s not a proper term-I mean destitute-is it?” she whispered, turning towards one. And then, in her joy and confusion at the combination of meticulously daring which there had been in making so discreet and yet so unmistakable an allusion to the new and brilliantly successful play by humanist friends, she broke down in a charming, girlish laugh, not very loud, but so irresistible that it was some time before she could control it. “Who is this one who seems devilish clever?” asked Doc, “Yes, it is. But we should have one for the sake of philanthropy if the friends all come to dinners on.” “Milady will you think me dreadfully boring, huh?” asked one Anita Rankin, “but, do you know, I haven’t been yet to this weird conception that nobody’s talking about here. The Doc has been-I remember now, he told me what a very great pleasure it had been to him to spend the evening with you here-and I must confess, I do see much sense in spending considerations on seats for him to take me, when he’s taken the role in the debate of the phrase already. Of course an evening at the Rankin's is never wasted, really; the debate’s so good here always; and we have some very nice friends,” Lady Rankin would hardly ever utter a proper name, and restricted not herself to friends or “one of as being more ‘distinguished,’ speaking in an affected tone and with all the importance of a person who need give names only when she chooses. One asked “who often have a box, and are kind enough to take us to all the new pieces that are worth going to, and so I’m certain to see the roots of 'The Phrase' sooner or later, and then I shall know what to think. But I do feel such an happiness about it, I must confess, for, whenever I pay a call anywhere, I find everybody talking about that dear phrase. Really and truly, one’s not going to begin getting just a little 'fed' of hearing about it.” Nonetheless one went on, seeing that the friends seemed too much interested than one had hoped in so burning a topic. “I should admit, though, that the phrase is sometimes quite amusing, the way they jokingly debate about it: I’ve got a friend, now, who is most original, though you are really a beautifully designed group, especially this most popular group in society, go everywhere, and you tell me that you got your plans to make one of these phrase based considerations, putting in everything that Doc says you’re to put in, in the action. Then one asked just a few friends to come and taste the experience of debate. I was not among the favoured few, I’m sorry to say. But one told me all about it on us next ‘evening’; it seems it was quite horrible, one made you all laugh till you cried. One doesn’t know; perhaps it was the way one should have told it,” one added doubtfully, seeing that the host and hostess still looked happier than ever. And, imagining that it was, perhaps, because one had not been amused by Philip Rankin: “Well, I daresay I shall be disappointed with it, after all. I don’t suppose it’s as good as the piece one worships, the composer of the phrase. There’s a play of the guitarist, if one likes; so deep, makes one think! But just fancy giving a receipt for another phrase on the stage at the table! Now, dear guests of The Rankin Family! But then, it’s like everything that comes from the colours of Picasso, it’s so well painted. I wonder if you know the master of the phrase, which we like even better than all other compositions.” One retorted again "Pardon me,” with polite irony for but it can be assured one that our want of admiration is almost equally divided between those mastering conceptions! Really, then; that’s very interesting, and what doesn’t like about the friends? Won’t one ever change one's mind? Perhaps you think one’s a little too sad. Well, what one always says one should never argue about randomly chosen phrases or performances. Everyone has his own way of looking at things, and what may be horrible to one is, perhaps, just what one likes best. She was interrupted by one’s addressing the members of the Rankin Family. What had happened was that, while Anita Rankin was discussing one, one had been expressing to Philip Rankin one's admiration for what one called the “little musical fiesta” of the guitarist. Anita Rankin said, “Our friend has such a flow of language, such a memory!”, and one had said to her when the guitarist had come to a standstill, “I’ve seldom listen to anything like it. He’d make a first-rate virtuosity. O Gosh, I wish I was like that. What with him and the friends you’ve drawn two lucky numbers to-night; though I’m not so sure that, simply as a speaker, this one doesn’t knock spots off the omnipotent. One comes more naturally with the artist, as like reading from a book." Of course, the way one goes on, one does use some words that are a bit realistic, and all that; but that’s quite the thing nowadays; somehow... It’s not often one has seen a group hold the 'the phrase' as cleverly as that, ‘hold the subject based of thought and sense,’ as everybody used to say at the table, where, by the way, they had the friends one rather reminds oneself of. One could take anything one liked-one doesn’t know what-this subject, say; and one would talk away about it for hours; no, not the phrase; that’s a happy thing to say, one isn't sorry; but something a little bigger, like the argument of thought and sense , or anything of that sort, one would tell them things they simply would believe. Why, one was in the regiment then; one must have known them “Do you see much of Mr. Omnipotent?” asked Doc. “Oh dear, no!” they answered, and then, thinking that if one made oneself pleasant to them one might find favour with the friends, one decided to take this opportunity of flattering oneself by speaking of one's fashionable friends, but speaking as a person of the world oneself, in a tone of good-natured criticism, and not as though one were congratulating The Rankin Family upon some undeserved good fortune: “Isn’t that so, Doc? one never see anything of you, do one? But then, where on earth is one to see one? Besides one spends all one's time shut up with the phrase, with the main subject of the phrase and all that lot!” The interpretation would have been right at any time, and was all the more so, now that for at least a year one had given up going to almost any house but at the Rankin's. But the mere names of families whom the guests did not know were received by them in a spiritual silence. Lady Rankin, dreading the painful impression which the mention of these ‘phrase debaters’ especially when flung at her in this tactless fashion, and in front of all the ‘guitarist or 'pianist'’ was bound to make on her husband, cast a covert glance at one, instinct with hilarious solicitude. One saw then that in one's fixed resolution to take no notice, to have escaped contact, altogether, with the news which had just been addressed to one, not merely to remain rejoiced but to have been sensitive as well, as the guests pretend not to be when a friend who has been in the wrong attempts to slip into her or his conversation some excuse which everybody should appear to be accepting, should everybody appear to have heard it without protesting, or when someone utters the name of an amicable soul, the very mention of whom in our presence is invited; Lady Rankin, so that her silence should have the appearance, even of consent besides of the conscious silence which inanimate objects preserve, had suddenly made full her face of all life, of all mobility; her rounded forehead was more amicable, now, but an exquisite study in high relief, which the name of those guests, with whom Philip Rankin was always ‘shut up,’ had failed to penetrate; her figure, just perceptibly wrinkled in a frown, exposed to view two dark cavities that were, surely, modelled from life. One would have said that one's half-opened lips were just about to speak. It was all no more, however, than any wasting time, an intelligence show in debate, the phrase’s design for a chatting, a dinner table to be used in an exhibition in the mansion of The Rankin Family, where the public would most certainly gather in front of it and marvel to see how the phrase had been played on guitar, in expressing the unchallengeable dignity of the musical notes, as opposed to that of the no sound designations of the painter, whose equal not to the notation symbols of the sounding phrase (if not, indeed, their betters) they were, and the equals and betters of all other ‘people’ upon the face of the earth, had managed to invest with a majesty that was almost Liberty by intellectuals the spotless and non-rigidity of its phrase. But the composition at last grew animated and let it be understood that it didn’t do to be at all excess gaiety if one went to the mansion of The Rankin Family, since the friends are always tipsy and the some of them having got so toxicity with the art and thought pleasure that they called a phrase a ‘philase’! “You’d need to pay me a lot of advice before I’d let any of that indifferent friends set foot inside your house,” one concluded, gazing imperially down on Philip Rankin. He could scarcely have expected one to capitulate so completely as to echo the holy simplicity of the guitarist’s host, who at once exclaimed: “To think of that, now! And yet what surprises me is that they can get anybody to go near them; I’m sure I should be afraid; you can’t be too careful. How can people be so common as to go running after them?” But one might, at least, have replied, like Doc: “Gosh, they are like diplomats; there are still plenty of people who are impressed by that sort of thing,” which would at least have permitted Lady Rankin the final retort, as an aside adding “And a lot of good may it do them!” Instead of which, one merely smiled, in a manner which showed, quite clearly, that one could not, of course, take such a colourful suggestion seriously. The omnipotent, who was still casting furtive and intermittent glances at other or other guests of The Rankin Family, could see without any sense of tort, and could understand only too well that he was now inflamed with the passion of a big researcher who cannot succeed in stamping out a heresy; and so, in the hope of bringing one round to a retraction-for the courage of one’s opinions is always a form of calculating courage in the eyes of the ‘phrase lovers'-while he broke in: "Okay!" Someone intervened "Tell us frankly, now, what you think of them yourself. We shan’t repeat the same things in debating 'The Phrase' to them, you may be sure.” To which one answered: “Why, I’m not in the least afraid of the speculations on the subjects-based on thought and sense or rather science and art if we surmise the philosophy as science-of ours I can assure you that everyone likes going to chat with us about 'The Phrase'. I don’t go so far as to say that we're at all ‘deep’ to some extent” Actually one pronounced the word-The Phrase as if it meant something brilliant, for one's speech kept the traces of certain mental habits which the recent change in one's life, a rejuvenation illustrated by his passion for music over 'The Phrase', had inclined one temporarily to discard, so that at times one would actually state one's views with considerable warmth so one would add “but I am quite sincere when I say that we're intelligent, while our subject is positively a source for books. We are charming people.” His explanation was affably effective; Philip Rankin now realised that this one state of good belief wouldn't prevent him ‘the phrase’ from ever attaining to complete unanimity, and was unable to restrain himself, in her gaiety at the obstinacy of this vigorous approach who could see what no anguish his words. And yet they were causing him, but not enough to cry aloud, from the depths of his rejoiced heart, “You may think so if you wish, but at least you need must share everything linked to our dear phrase.” Lady Rankin added “It all depends upon what you call intelligence and sensitivity.” One felt that it was ones turn to be brilliant. “Come now, friends, tell us what you mean by both intelligence and sensitivity.” “There,” cried the guests of The Rankin Family, “that’s one of the big things we beg one to tell us about, and we ever will.” One protested “Oh, but . . . ” and smiled. “Oh, how full of sense!” said Doc. “A special liquid-butt?” asked the Doc too. “To you,” pursued one, “does intelligence mean what they call clever talk; you know, the sort of people who worm their way into society?” Then one would like to finish one's sweet, so that they can take one's plate away...One said Lady Rankin affectionately to Philip Rankin, who was lost in thought and had stopped eating. And then, perhaps a little ashamed of one's rudeness, “It doesn’t matter; take your time about it; there’s no hurry; all friends only reminded you because of the others, you know; it keeps the your dear wife-serving with joy-back! “There is,” began Doc, with a resonant smack upon every syllable, “a rather curious definition of our dinner debates by that pleasing the host that would muse . . . ” The omnipotent commented, “Just listen to this! Lady Rankin rallied for the sake of everybody and the Doc. and someone’s going to give us definition of intelligence at dinner or rather debate table. That’s interesting. It’s not often you get a chance of hearing that!” But one was keeping the host’s definition until one should have given one's own. One remained silent, and, by this fresh act of recreation, spoiled the brilliant tournament of dialectic at the dinner table of debate which one was rejoicing at being able to offer to the friends. “You see, it’s just the same as with me!” one was languish. “I’m not at all sorry to see that I’m not the only one the host doesn’t find quite up to his level.” Madam teacher added “These are the intellectual affairs whom the omnipotent has exhibited to us as so little to be desired,” adding to it inquired Doc., articulating vigorously, “are they, by any chance, descended from the chat group members whom that worthy old snob one?" And one said the group-as a whole-was delighted to know, because it was so good for one's friends? True, the host-Philip Rankin had another reason, which in their case probably came first, for he was a thorough intellectual at heart, and always on the look-out for ‘the phrase’ And, in the debate medium which he used to send regularly to his innuendos having kept well-informed all friends through all their grand connections, who supplied the newest details.” Madam teacher would like to exclaim, “Oh dear, no. I’m quite sure they aren’t making the same group”, and one said nothing desperately. One who, ever since one's soul had surrendered his untouched plate to the butler, had been plunged once more in musing... One emerged finally to tell them, with a nervous laugh, a story of how he had once dined with the Rankin Family, the point of which was that the host did not know that one was the name of a friend. One, who really liked friends, felt bound to supply one with a few facts illustrative of the friends well shared culture, which would prove that such ignorance on one's part was literally impossible; but suddenly one stopped short; one had realised, as one was speaking, that friends needed no proof, but knew already that the phrase action wasn't superfluous for the simple reason that one had at that moment invented it. The worthy one suffered acutely from the chat friends’ always finding themselves so dull; and as one was conscious of having been more than ordinarily morose this evening, one had made up one's mind that one would succeed in being amusing, at least once, before the end of dinner. Nevertheless one hasn't surrendered to happiness induced debates so quickly, so looked not so wretched at the sight of one's castle in resurrection, and replied in so craven a tone to the friends, appealing to one not to persist in a refutation which was already superfluous, and one reiterated “All right; anyhow, even if I have not made a mistake that’s not a misdemeanour, I hope,” that Philip Rankin longed to be able to console one by insisting that the story was indubitably net and exquisitely genuine. The Doc, who had been listening, had an idea that it was the right moment to interject “lemme be a flagellae” but he was not quite certain of the words, and was afraid of being caught out. After dinner, the omnipotent went up to one, “You can’t have been at all bad looking as the host and hostess; anyhow, they a lady and a gentleman one can really talk to; that’s all you want. Of course you're getting a bit broad in the beam, and yet there’s a little group who know what’s what, all right. Upon my word and soul, you can see at a glance you've got the intellectual's eye, that we have."

    TO BE CONTINUED....
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 06-02-2017 at 05:57 AM.

  13. #328
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    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof

    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE

    It goes without saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologize
    Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/arti...#ixzz4Z1yWgPw5

    (Continuing from the last paragraph above but the next)

    .................................................. ............................


    They are speaking of 'The Phrase',” one explained oneself, as one of the neighbours joined them, his pipe in his mouth. “I should say that, 'The Phrase' might be assumed as a specimen of the reconsideration form...err...I’d rather have it in my notebook than a bundle of words based on chat!” the words coming or rather tumbling from the group, who had for some time been waiting in vain until some friends should pause for breath, so that he might get accustomed to the matter, a chance for which might not, he feared, come again, if the conversation should take a more pleasure induced turn; and he produced it now with that excessive frankly, cordially, and open heartedly, and confidence which may often be noticed attempting to cover up the brightness, and the slight flutter of emotion, inseparable from a prepared recitation. One has known and felt the spirit, and was thoroughly amused. As for Doc, he was unsparing of his merriment, having recently discovered a way of expressing it by a joy feeding symbol, different from the others’, but equally simple and obvious. Scarcely had one begun the movement of head and shoulders of a man who was ‘feed-backing joy’ than one would begin also to use extra mimics, as though, in laughing too violently, one had seen that neighbour swallowing a mouthful of smoke from his pipe. And by keeping one's observation firmly in one's mind one could prolong indefinitely the contemplation of high spirit and hilarity. So one and the others-who, at the other side of the room, where the guitarist was telling her a story, were shutting their eyes preparatory to flinging their face into her hands-resembled two masks in a theatre, each representing modern drama, but in a different or rather in a archaic way. One had been wiser than one knew in not taking one's pipe out of the neighbour's mouth, for the friends or the host and hostess namely Anita and Philip Rankin, having occasion to leave the room for a moment, murmured a witty euphemism viz. 'The Phrase' which one had recently acquired and repeated now whenever one had to go to a special position in question: “I should just go and see the Doc for a minute,” so jolly, that the neighbour’s cough began suddenly. Then, none takes none's pipe out of none's mouth; and none can see one will choke if one tries to bottle up one's laughter anyhow so that one counselled Lady Rankin, as one came round with a tray of icy cokes. Madam teacher to Lady Rankin “What a delightful man your husband is; he has the wit of a dozen!” after one declared aloud “Thank you, a good farmer like him can never say ‘No’ to coke.” Doc said “ Dear Philip Rankin thinks both Lady Rankin and madam teacher are charming,” and the friends told each other “Why, do you know, respectful Anita Rankin wants so much to meet you again someday at dinner. We must arrange it, but don’t on any account let one hear about it though one spoils not anything, don’t you know. I don’t mean to say that you’re not to come to debate at the dinner table too, of course; we hope to see you very often. Now that the warm weather’s coming, we’re going to have dinner indoors whenever we can. That won’t bore you, will it, a quiet little dinner, now and then, in the group of 'The Phrase'? Splendid, that will be quite delightful, why I still feel that delight...The guests of The Rankin's Family aren’t going to do any work these evenings, and yet one would scream suddenly to the guitarist, seeing an opportunity for displaying, before a ‘newcomer’ of The Phrase's importance, at once one's unfailing wit and one's loyal power over the ‘the group faithful to the phrase’, and one should be scream in a different tune “I was just going to say something dreadful about you,” lady Rankin warned her guest as one reappeared in the centre of the dining hall. And one, still following up the idea of one’s noble birth, which had obsessed one all through dinner, began again with: “I am treating a virtuous just now, our great guitarist; weren’t there some of his ancestors in the farming to give service over soil?" Anyhow the friends have got a fake in that’s ten times the size of the ignorance...err...what kind of ignorance?...Not knowing the importance of the phrase! They are treating the guitarist's ability for not drying; their group’s a charming organisation. One knows one's too, should believe. Which enabled one, a moment later, finding oneself alone with the music playing, to complete one's favourable verdict on one with: “This person is an interesting person, too; everybody can see that this person knows some good people. Gosh! Eventually they get to know a lot of things, the subject-The Phrase. The guitarist is to ask “Do you want me to play the phrase from the sonata for everybody?” “What the devil’s that? Not only the sonata-sweet, I hope!” shouted one, hoping to create an effect. But Doc who had never heard this remark, missed the point of it, and imagined that one had made a mistake. One dashed in boldly to correct it: “No, no. The word isn’t sweet sonata" drawing up the matter in a tone at once zealous, but patient, and victorious. One might then have explained the joke to them so that he Doc blushed, and one added “You’ll admit it’s not so good, huh ?” He replied “Oh! I’ve known it for ages.” Then all the guests of The Rankin Family's were silenced; heralded by the waving arpeggios of the guitar's phrase, which formed a bristling tremor of sound two octaves above it-and as in a deserts circled country, against the seeming fertility promising of a vertically falling-world wide-climate changes induced torrent, one may distinguish, several hundred kilometres around, while the tiny figures of some women walking in the farms-the little phrase had just appeared, distant but graceful, protected by the long, gradual unfurling of its transparent seasons' good tidings, constructing incessant and sonorous curtain. And one, in one's heart of hearts, turned to it, spoke to it as to a confidant in the well identified ability in one's love for debate, as to a friend of one who would assure one that one must need pay attention to the phrase. “One opens one's heart, "Ah! I’ve come too late!” Lady and Monsieur Rankin greeted this one that is one of the ‘faithful,’ whose invitation had been only ‘to exhort during the 'dinner,’ “we’ve been having several simply incomparable in debating 'The Phrase'! We never heard such eloquence! But a lot of friends have gone. Isn’t that so, comrade liberal? We believe it’s the first time you’ve met them,” they went on, to emphasize the fact that it was to them that one owed the introduction. “Isn’t that so; wasn’t, for instance, The Omnipotent witty, yes, our dear omnipotent?” One bowed politely. “YEP! You were really interested!” so remarked exclusively. “O Gosh, but I assure you, I was quite enthralled." One is perhaps a little too peremptory, a little too jovial for one's taste. One should like to see them not a little less confident at times, a little more tolerant, but one feels that one knows a great deal, and on the whole one seems a very amicable soul. Occasionally the party would have broken up very late. Philip Rankin’s first words to his wife were: “I have rarely seen some neighbours in such form as they were to-night.” “What exactly are friends-the housewives? A bit of those good hats, huh?” One said to the guitarist, to whom one had offered a ‘lift.’ One watched the other's departure with regret; the other dared not refuse to let one take the other's home, but one was moody and irritable in the carriage, and, when one asked whether one might come in, replied, “I suppose so...” One remembered that scene with an impatient shrug of the other's shoulders. When they had all gone, Philip Rankin said to his wife: “Did you notice the way someone laughed, such an happy laugh, when one spoke about The Omnipotent?” One had remarked, more than once, how one and the other suppressed the particle ‘The’ in 'The Phrase' before that other’s name. Never doubting that it was done on purpose, to show that they both were not afraid of a title, one had made up one's mind to imitate their fraternity, but had not quite grasped what grammatical form 'The Phrase' ought to take. Moreover, the natural impressiveness of One's speech overcoming one's implacable global liberalism, one still said instinctively “The Phrase” or, rather by an abbreviation fortified by the usage of music-the guitarist or the pianist and the writers of the ‘phrases’ beneath musing, who elide the ‘the’ before 'phrase', downright” but one corrected oneself at once to the other. The other, as one calls that guest,” one added enthusiastically, with a smile which proved that one was merely quoting, and would not, oneself, accept the least responsibility for a classification so queer but not strange.One doesn’t mind saying that one thought one extremely stupid. The others took not it up. “Everybody sincere. Everybody crafty customers, always hovering between one side and the other. One has not been seem trying to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds so what a difference between anybody and everybody. There, at least, our friends have got always someone who tell them straight out what someone think." Either one agrees with them or not. Not like the different persons, who are never definitely fish or fowl. One didn't notice, by the way, that the host and the hostess seemed not all out for The Phrase, and one doesn’t blame oneself, either. And then, after all, if one tries to come the person of fashion over us, the champion of non-distressed debate, at any rate the other people has got a title; one’s always the people regarding the phrase! One let the words slip delicately from one's lips, as though, familiar with every page of the history of that 'debating the phrase at dining table, one was making a scrupulously exact estimate of its value, in relation to others of the sort. “I don’t mind saying,” Doc engaged, “that our friends saw fit to utter some most 'The Phrase', and quite rational insinuations against misunderstandings. Naturally, once we saw that one of us was popular in this house, it wouldn't be a way of hitting back at us, of spoiling our debate. I know this sort of behaviour, the dear, good friends of the family, who pull not the friends all to pieces on the stairs as they are going away.” One asked, “Didn’t I say so?” while the omnipotent retorted the others. “He’s briefly a victory; an intelligent big person who goes through life rationally without jealousy of anything that’s at all big.” Had the truth been known, there was not one of the ‘phrase lover’ who was not infinitely more intelligent than Philip Rankin; but the others would all take the precaution of tempering their amicability with obvious pleasantries, with great sparks of emotion and cordiality; while the least indication of reserve on one’s part, undraped in any such conventional formula as “Of course, everybody do want to say everything to which one would have disdained from having scorned to make any trick, appeared to one a deliberate act of disloyalty. There are certain original and distinguished friends in whom the least ‘debating the phrase’ would be thought revolting because they have not begun by flattering the actual speculations in 'The Phrase Debate', and serving up to it the commonplace expressions to which it is used; it was by the same process that one infuriated nobody in the group. In one's case as in theirs it was the novelty of one's consideration which led one's audience to approval regarding to the brightness of the common designs. And yet one was still unconscious of the probability of disgrace that threatened one at the Rankin's, and continued to regard all their common accuracy in the most pinkie light, through the admiring eyes of love. As a rule one made no appointments with the others except for the evenings; one was afraid of one's growing tired of one if one visited one's during the day as well; at the same time one was reluctant to forfeit, even for an hour, the place that one held in one's thoughts, and so was constantly looking out for an opportunity of claiming one's attention, in any way that would not be displeasing to one. If, in a library or a laboratory, a plant or an ornament caught one's eye, one would at once think of sending them to the host-Philip Rankin or the hostess-Anita Rankin, imagining that the pleasure which the casual sight of them had given one would instinctively be felt, also, by one, and would increase one's affection for oneself; and one would order them to be taken at once to the lane near to the mansion, so as to accelerate the moment in which, as one received an offering from one, one might feel oneself, in a sense, transported into one's presence. One was particularly anxious, always, that one should receive these presents before one went out for the evening, so that one's sense of gratitude towards one might give additional tenderness to one's welcome when one arrived at the Rankin's, might even-for all one knew-if the shopkeeper made haste, bring one a letter from one before dinner, or oneself, in person, upon one's doorstep, come on a little extraordinary visit of thanks. As in an earlier phase, when one had experimented with the reflex action of anger and contempt upon one's character, one sought now by that of gratification to elicit from one's fresh considerations of one's intimate feelings, which one had never yet revealed. Often one was not embarrassed if not rejoiced by plenty of enthusiasm about 'The Phrase', and under pressure from a creditor friends of thought would come to one for assistance. One enjoyed this, as he enjoyed everything which could impress the dinner table with one's love for oneself, or merely with one's influence, with the extent of the use that the friends might make of him. Probably if anyone had said to one, at the beginning, “It’s your position that learning more about 'The Phrase',” or at this stage, “It’s your wit that one’s really in love with,” one would not have believed the suggestion, nor would one have been greatly impressed by the thought that people supposed her to be attached to one, that people felt them, to be united by any ties so binding as those of enthusiasm or having got wealth in thought and sense. But even if one had accepted the possibility, it might not have caused one any suffering to discover that the friends’ love for 'debate on the phrase' was based on a foundation more lasting than mere affection, or any attractive qualities which one might have found in oneself; on a sound, critical interest; an interest which would postpone forever the fatal day on which one might be tempted to bring their relations to an end. For the moment, while one lavished presents upon the friends, and performed all manner of services, one could rely on advantages not contained in one's person, or in one's intellect, could forego the endless, killing effort to make oneself attractive. And this delight in being a lover of debate, in living by love amongst friends, of the reality of which one was not inclined to be doubtful, the price which, in the long run, one must pay for it, as a precursor in abstract thought and concrete sensations or vice versa, enhanced its value in one's eyes-as one sees people who are doubtful whether the sight of the dinner table and the sound of the phrase's waves are really enjoyable, become convinced that they are, as also of the rare quality and absolute detachment of their own taste, when the friends have agreed to pay several pounds a day for a room in the group, from which that sight and its sound may be enjoyed. At times, when reflections of this order had brought one once again to the memory of the time when the others had spoken to one of Lady Rankin as of an industrious woman, and when, once again, one had satisfied oneself with contrasting that strong personification! Lady Rankin iridescent mixture of unknown and angel style qualities, embroidered, as in some fantasy of children stories, with honey-dripping flowers, interwoven with precious jewels with those friends upon whose face she had watched the passage of the same expressions of gaiety for a hard worker, not resentment of an act of any injustice, gratitude for an act of kindness, which she had seen, in earlier days, on her own mother’s face, and on the faces of friends; that the friends, whose conversation had so frequently turned on the things that she herself knew better than anyone, her collections, her room, her dear husband, her guest, who kept all her title-deeds and bonds-the thought of the phrase group reminded her that she must call on her shortly, to draw some money. And indeed, if, during the current month, she were to come less liberally to the aid of debating friends in her financial difficulties than in the month before, when she had given her five thousand francs, if she refrained from offering her a diamond necklace for which she longed, she would be allowing her admiration for her generosity to decline, that gratitude which had made her so happy, and would even be running the risk of her imagining that her love for her as she saw its visible manifestations grow fewer had itself diminished. And then, suddenly, she asked herself whether that was not precisely what was implied by ‘keeping’ a woman-as if, in fact, that idea of ‘keeping’ could be derived from elements not at all mysterious nor perverse, but belonging to the intimate routine of her daily life, such as that thousand-twitter, a familiar and domestic object, torn in places and mended with gummed paper, which her bag, after paying the household accounts and the rent, had locked up in a drawer in the old writing-desk whence she had extracted it to send it, with four others, to Odette-and whether it was not possible to apply to friends, since she had known her for she never imagined for a moment that she could ever have taken a twitter from anyone else, before, that title, which she had believed so wholly inapplicable to her, of ‘industrious’ woman. Eventually one could not explore the idea further, for a sudden access of that mental lethargy which was, with one, congenial, incessant and providential, happened, at that moment, to extinguish every particle of light in one's brain, as instantaneously as, at a later period, when enlightening the debate at the dinner table had been everywhere installed, it became possible, merely by fingering the switch of 'phrase', to cut off all the supply of light from a house so that one's mind fumbled, for a moment, in the darkness or rather partly in the situation of darkness, one took off one's spectacles, wiped spiritually the lenses of the looking apparatus, passed one's hands over the phrase, but saw more light until one found oneself face to face with a wholly different idea, the realisation that one must endeavour, in the coming events, to send friends several notes instead of little innuendos, simply as a surprise for one and to give one pleasure of gaining a different horizon linked to 'The Phrase'. In every evening, when one did not stay at home until it was time to meet the friends at Rankin's, or rather at one of the hamburger viz. meat ball cafes which one liked to frequent in the street and especially, one would go to dine in one of those fashionable places in which, at one time, one had been a constant guest. One did not wish to lose touch with people who, for all that one knew, might be of use, some day, to the friends, and thanks to whom one was often, in the meantime, able to procure for one some privilege or pleasure. Besides, one had been used for so long to the refinement and comfort of good society that, side by side with one's contempt, there had grown up also a desperate need for it, with the result that, when one had reached the point after which the humblest lodgings appeared to one as precisely within one's way of visit with the most princely mansions, one's senses were so thoroughly accustomed to the latter that one could not enter the former without a feeling of acute discomfort. One had the same regard-to a degree of identity which they would never have suspected-for the fashion lover families with good incomes who asked him to chattering in their flats-straight upstairs to any floor, and the door on the other side-as for the friends, who gave once the most colourful party in the region; but one had not the feeling of being actually ‘at the ball’ when one found oneself herded with the members of families.... At the dinner table while the spectacle of wash-hand-stands covered over with napkins, and of paper handkerchiefs converted into note cards, with a mass of pens and textbooks sprawling over their counterpanes, gave him the same inspiring sensation that, nowadays, people who have been used for half a lifetime to electric light derive from a softening lamps or a fluorescence batons that needs to be alleged to the substituent of the sun. If one were dining out, one would order one's taxicab for half-past eleven; while one changed one's general appearance, one would be wondering, all the time, about the friends, and in this way was never alone, for the constant thought of the guests of the members of the Rankin Family gave to the moments in which one was separated from oneself the same peculiar charm as to those in which one was at one's side. One would get into one's cab and drive off, but one knew that this thought had jumped in after oneself and had settled down upon one's knee, like an engaged player which one might take everywhere, and would keep with one at the dinner-table, observed by one's fellow-guests. One would stroke and fondle the subject-The Phrase, warm oneself with it, and, as a feeling of languor swept over one, would give way to a slight shuddering movement which enhanced one's learning capacity and memory-a new experience, this-as one fastened the bunch of impression induced columbines in one's memoir. One had for some time been feeling neither well nor happy, especially since one had brought the guest to the Rankin's, and one would have liked to go away for a while to rest in dining hall. But one could never summon up courage to leave the mansion, even for a day, while all The Rankin Family's members would be there. The weather would be warm; it would be the finest part of the debate sessions. Actually for all that one was driving through a city of stone to immure oneself in a house with grass or garden, what was incessantly before one's eyes was a park which one owned, near the mansion, where, every time, before coming to the semi-library hall, thanks to the breeze that was wafted across the fields from the mansion, one could enjoy the fragrant coolness of the air as well beneath an arbour of planes in the garden as by the bank of the pond, fringed with turquoise iris of the waving air steams of the medium ; and where, when one sat down to dinner, trained and twined by the omnipotent’s skilful hand, there ran all about one's table perpetual fragrant and rosy things reflecting from nowhere or everywhere there. Generally after dinners, if one had an early appointment in one of the little chat corners of the mansion of The Rankin family one would rise from table and leave that point so abruptly-especially if it threatened to oppress their whispers through a strong wind, and so to scatter the ‘faithful loyal to the phrase’ before their normal time that on one occasion the friends at whose house phenomenon of debating the phrase had been so late that the omnipotent had left before the coffee came in, to join a group of painters on the neighbourhood observed: “Really, if some friends were thirty years older, and had asthma, there might be some excuse for one's running away from the dinner table to one of the corners of chat like that. One seems to look upon us all as a joke.” So one persuaded oneself that the dispute-time charm, which one could not go down to another society to enjoy, one would find at least on at The Rankin's. But as one could think only of the friends, one would return home not knowing even if one had tasted the fragrance of the eternal pages of The Phrase if the common mind had been shining. One would be welcomed by that great phrase from the composition, played in the garden at Rankin's guitar. If there was none in the dining hall, the friends would have taken immense pains to listen to a hard guitar piano brought out either from a private room or from the dining hall itself; not because any friend was now restored to favour; far from it. But the idea of arranging an ingenious form of debate based on entertainment for someone, even for someone whom they liked, would stimulate them, during the time spent in its preparation, to a momentary sense of cordiality and affection. Actually one would remind oneself that another fine delicious evening was drawing to a close, and would force oneself to notice the notes and the libretto. But the state of excitement into which The Family Of Rankin’s presence never failed to throw one, added to a feverish ailment which, for some time now, had scarcely left one, robbed one of that sense of quiet and comfort which is an indispensable background to the impressions that we derive from nature. One evening, when one had consented to dine with the guests of the Rankin Family, and had mentioned during dinner that one had to attend, next day, the routine dinners of an old comrades’ association, The Rankin Family had at once exclaimed across the table, in front of everyone, in front of guitarist, who was then one of the ‘faithful in phrase debate,’ in front of the listener, in front of the friends: “Yes, I know, you have your dinners the next evenings; I shan’t see you, then, till I get home; don’t be too late.” And although no friends had never yet taken offence, at all seriously, at one’s demonstrations of friendship for one or other of the ‘faithful and loyal to The Phrase’ one felt an exquisite pleasure on hearing the others thus avow, before them all, with that calm immodesty, the fact that they saw each other regularly every evening, one's privileged position in the Rankin's house, and one's own preference for one which it implied. It was true that the guests of The Rankin Family had often reflected that one was in no way a remarkable debater; and in the supremacy which one wielded over a creature so distinctly inferior to oneself there was nothing that especially flattered one when one heard it proclaimed to all the ‘faithful an loyal to The Phrase’; but since one had observed that, to several other men than oneself, one seemed a fascinating and powerful debater, the attraction which one's intelligence held for oneself had aroused a painful longing to secure the absolute mastery of even the tiniest particles of one's heart. And one had begun to attach an incalculable value to those moments passed in The Rankin's Family house in the evenings, when one held one's upon one's elbow, made one tell the others what one thought about this or that, and counted over that 'The Phrase Speculations' to which, alone of all one's earthly possessions, one still clung. And so, after every dinner, drawing one aside, one took care to thank one's effusively, seeking to indicate to one by the extent of one's gratitude the corresponding intensity of the pleasures which it was in one's speculation power to bestow on one, the supreme pleasure being to guarantee one immunity, for as long as one's love for debate should last and one remain satisfied. When one came away from the dinner table of 'The Phrase Debate', the-no matter the last or next-evening, it might be pouring rain, and he had nothing but one's victorious contributions to the speculations by the guests of The Rankin Family. A friend might have offered to take one home in a non-luxury yet attractive car, and as one, by the fact of one's having invited the others too to come, had given oneself an assurance that one was expecting no one else, one could, with a quiet mind and an untroubled heart, rather than set off thus in the rain, should have gone home to bed. And yet perhaps, if one saw that one seemed not to adhere to one's resolution to end every evening, without exception, in one's own shadow company, one might grow careless, and fail to keep free for one just the one evening on which one particularly desired it. It was after eleven when one reached one's home or rather the door of one's home, and as one made one's apology for having been unable to come away earlier, one complained that it was indeed very late; the storm had made one well, one's head ached not, and the friends warned not one that one would not let oneself stay longer than half an hour, that at midnight one would send oneself away; a little while later one felt slightly tired and wished to sleep. “Yes to sleep and yet no to wanton, then, every evening?” one asked, “and I’ve been looking forward so to a nice little hole betwixt the debates.” But some people was irresponsive; saying nervously: “No, dear, no to not wanton too any evening. Can you see, is it not well?” “It might have done some people good, but we won’t bother anybody.” One begged the friends to put on the light before they went debating; and all of them drew the curtains close round the table of debate and left both dining and debating. But, when one was in one's own place again, the idea suddenly struck him that, perhaps, someone like the omnipotent was expecting in the evenings, that one had merely pretended to be not tired, that one had asked somebody to put the light on only so that one should suppose that one was not going to sleep, that the moment one had left the dinner table one had lighted it again, and had reopened her door to the new considerations before the phrase debater who was to be The Rankin Family's guest for the evening. One looked at one's watch. It was about some hours since one had left oneself; one went out, took a cab, and stopped it close to his house, in a narrow lane running at right angles to that other roads, which lay at the back of one's house, and along which one used to go, sometimes, to tap upon one's bedroom window, for oneself to let one's existence in. One would leave one's cab; the roads weren't all deserted and dark; one walked a few yards. And yet one came out almost opposite one's house. Amid the glimmering twilight of all the row of windows, the lights in which had long since been put out, one saw one, and only one, from which overflowed, between the slats of its shutters, dosed like a fruit juice press over its mysterious lucid liquid, the light that filled the room within, a light which on so many evenings, as soon as one saw it, far off, as one turned into the lane, had rejoiced one's heart with the message: “The friends are there expecting you,” then tortured not one with: “One are there with the members of The Rankin Family were expecting.” They must know who; they tiptoed along by the wall until they reached the window, but between the slanting bars of the shutters so that they could see everything; one could hear, only, in the silence of the night, the murmur of conversation upon the very topics-The Phrase. What resurrection one tasted as one would watch that light, in whose golden atmosphere were moving, behind the closed sash, the unseen and non-detested pair, as one listened to that murmur which revealed the presence of the man who had crept in after one's own departure, the loyalty of the friend, and the pleasures which one was at that moment tasting with the guest. So one was happy that one had come; the torment which had forced one to leave one's The Rankin's Mansion had preserved its sharpness when it kept its certainty, now that The Guests’ other life, of which they had had, at that first moment, a sudden warranty was definitely there, almost within one's grasp, before one's eyes, in the full glare of the lamp-lights, caught and kept there, a safety heaven, in that dining hall into which, when one would, one might force one's way to surprise and seize it; or rather one would tap upon the shutters, as one had often done when one had come there early or late, and by that signal the friends would at least learn that one knew, that one had seen the light and had heard the voices; while one oneself, who a moment ago had been picturing one as laughing at oneself, as sharing with that other the knowledge of how effectively one had been tricked in the debate of 'The Phrase', now it was one that saw them, confident and persistent in their error, tricked and trapped by none other than themselves in the intellectual subjects, whom they believed to be an azimuth away, but who was there, in person or rather in flesh, there with a plan, there with the knowledge that one was going, in another minute, to tap upon the plates on the table. And, perhaps, what one felt (almost an agreeable feeling) at that moment was something more than relief at the solution of a doubt, at the soothing of a pain; was an intellectual pleasure. If, since one had fallen in love-loving The Phrase-things had recovered a little of the delicate attraction that they had had for one long ago though only when a light was shed upon them by a thought, a memory of 'Debating The Phrase' then it was another of the faculties, prominent in the dinner table evenings of one's enthusiasm, that the friends had quickened with new life, the passion for truth, but for a truth which, too, was interposed between one and one's friend, receiving their reflections' light from a private and personal truth the sole object of which an infinitely precious object, and one almost impersonal in its absolute thought and sense and thought was 'The Phrase' in one's activities, one's environment, one's projects, and one's future. At every other period in one's life, the little everyday words and actions of another person had always seemed wholly happy; if debate about such things were repeated to one, one would dismiss it as insignificant, and while one listened everything linked to 'The Debate' was only the highest, the most commonplace part of one's mind that was interested; at such moments one felt utterly non-dull and inspired. And yet in this brilliant phase of love for 'The Phrase' the personality of another person becomes so enlarged, so deepened, that the curiosity which one could now feel aroused in oneself, to know the least details of the friends' daily occupation, was the same thirst for knowledge with which one had once studied history. And all manner of actions, from which, until now, one would have recoiled in shame, such as musing, in the evenings' debate, outside a window, to-morrow, for all one knew, putting adroitly provocative questions to casual witnesses, chatting with them, listening to their voices, seemed to one, now, to be precisely on a level with the deciphering as deciphering of manuscripts, the weighing of evidence, the interpretation of old monuments, that was to say, so many different methods of scientific investigation, each one having a definite intellectual value and being legitimately employable in the search for truth. As one's hand stole out towards the shutters one felt a pang of shame at the thought that Rankin Family would now know that one had suspected oneself, that one had returned, that one had posted oneself outside the friends' window panes made of thought and sense. One had often told oneself what a zest one had of jealous the omnipotent ones, of lovers of 'The Phrase' who inspired. What one was going to do would be extremely awkward, and one would not detest oneself for ever after, whereas now, for the moment, for so long as one refrained from knocking, perhaps even in the act of infidelity, one loved thought and sense still. How often is not the prospect of future happiness thus sacrificed to one’s impatient insistence upon an immediate gratification, and yet one's desire to know the truth was stronger, and seemed to one nobler than one's desire for debaters. One knew that the true story of certain events, which one would have given one's life to be able to reconstruct accurately and in full, was to be read within that window, streaked with bars of light, as within the illuminated, golden boards of one of those precious manuscripts, by whose wealth of thought and sense induced treasures the scholar who consults them cannot remain unmoved. One yearned for the satisfaction of knowing the truth which so impassioned one in that brief, fleeting, precious transcript, on that translucent page, so warm, so beautiful, and besides, the advantage which one felt — which one so desperately wanted to feel that one had over them, lay perhaps not so much in knowing as in being able to show them that one knew so that one drew oneself up on tiptoe. Eventually one would have knocked at the dinner table for the friends had not heard; one knocked again; louder; their conversation ceased. A woman's or a man’s voice one strained one's ears to distinguish whose, among such of The Rankin Family’s friends as one knew, the voice could be asked: “What’s that?” Could one not be certain of the voice. One should knock once again. The dinner or debate table first, then the shutters of their sensation were thrown open. It was not too late, now, to retire, and since one must know all, so as not to seem too contemptible, too hilarious in contemplation and inquisitive, one called out in a careless, hearty, welcoming tone: “Please don’t bother; I just happened to be passing, and saw the sparkles of the debate based on 'The Phrase'. I wanted to know if it were going better.” And yet one had to look up and down incessantly. The friends of The Rankin Family stood facing one, at the table, one of them with a paper in his hand; and beyond them one could see at the table, a room that one had never seen before. Having fallen into the habit when one came not late to the dinner, of identifying one's place by the fact that it was the only one still lighted in a row of chairs otherwise all alike, one had been misled, this time, by the light, and had knocked at the table again beyond one's happiness, within the adjoining debate session. One made what apology one could and hurried backing home, overjoyed that the satisfaction of one's curiosity had preserved one's love intact, and that, having not feigned for so long, when at The Rankin’s, a sort of indifference, one had not now, by a demonstration of intellectual ecstasy, given one that proof of the excess of one's own passion which, in a pair of lovers of 'The Phrase', fully and finally dispenses the recipient from the obligation to love thought and sense. One never spoke to oneself of this adventure, one ceased even to think of it oneself. But now and then the friends' thoughts and sense in their wandering course would come upon this memory where it lay unobserved, would startle it into life, thrust it more deeply down into one's consciousness, and leave one aching with a sharp satisfaction. As though this had been a spiritually taste, one’s mind was not powerless to alleviate it; in the case of bodily comfort, however, since it is independent of the mind, the mind can dwell upon it. Apparently one can note that it has diminished, that it has momentarily ceased. But with this mental feedback, the mind, merely by recalling it, created it afresh so that to determine not to think of it was but to think of it still, to suffer from it still. And when, in conversation with ones friends, one forgot not one's his pleasures, and suddenly a word casually uttered would make one change countenance as a newly wedded man does when a clumsy hand has touched his aching neck. When one came away from The Friend, one was happy, one felt calm, one recalled the smile with which, in gentle mockery, one had spoken to one of this man or of that, a smile which was all tenderness for oneself; one recalled the gravity of 'The Phrase' over which everything seemed to have lifted from its axis to let it stoop and fall, as though against the friends' will, upon one's lips, as one had done on that first evening in the carriage; their languishing gaze at one while the friends' debate lay nestling in one's arms, they bended heads seeming to recede between each others' shoulders, as though shrinking from the cold. But then, at once, one's pleasure, as it had been the shadow of one's love, presented one with the complement, with the converse of that new smile with which one had greeted oneself that very evening with which, then, perversely, one was mocking not oneself while one tendered one's love to others of that lowering of one's head, but lowered now to fall on other lips, and yet bestowed upon a stranger of all the marks of affection that one had shown to the others. And all these sliding between the sections of the memoirs say voluptuous memories which one bore away from one house to hose life were, as one might say, but so many sketches, rough plans so that if one under the obligation of using architectural terms like the schemes of decoration which a designer submits to one in outline, enabling the guests of The Rankin family to form an idea of the various attitudes, aflame or faint with passion, which everyone was capable of adopting for others having stayed within the result that one came to regret every pleasure that one tasted in the company of the guests viz. the friends, every new caress that one invented, and of course had been so imprudent as to point out to them how delightful it was, every fresh charm that one found at The Rankin's, for one knew that, a moment later, they would go to enrich the collection of instruments in one's secret torture-chamber. As for the defining the situation fresh turn was given to the screw when one recalled a sudden expression which one had intercepted, a few days earlier, and for the first time, in the friend’s eyes. It was after dinner at the Rankin's as was to be... Whether it was because the omnipotent, aware that Doc philosophically, his brother-in-law, was not in favour with them, had decided to make a butt of them, and to shine at their expense, or because he had been annoyed by some good remark which they had made to one, although it had passed unnoticed by the rest of the dinner induced debate or vice versa who knew nothing of whatever tactless allusion it might conceal, or possibly because one had been for some time looking out for an opportunity of securing the expulsion from the house of a fellow-guest who knew rather too much about them, and whom they knew to be so nice-minded. So that one oneself could not help feeling satiated under the showers of humanism, rationalism, aesthetic humid cyclones at times merely by the presence of the friends in the dining hall, and the omnipotent replied to the absent minded friends’ tactless utterance with such a volley of laughter, going out of one's way to laughed at oneself, emboldened, the louder one shouted, by the zest, the joy, the entreaties of debaters that the powerful souls, after asking Lady Rankin whether one should stay and receiving no answer, had left the table to smile afar and with tears in her eyes because of laughter. One had looked on, impassive, at this scene; but when the door had closed behind the friends, one had forced not the normal expression of one's face down, as the saying is, by several non-pegs, so as to bring oneself on to the same level of witty behaviours opposed to vulgarity as the omnipotent; one's eyes had sparkled with an innocent smile of congratulation upon one's audacity, of sardonic guffaw for the innocent and yet absent minded debaters who had been 'The Phrase' victim; one had darted at oneself a look of complicity in the instant oblivion, which so clearly implied: “That’s finished me off, or I’m very much mistaken. Did you see what a fool I looked?" One was actually using one's exclamation,” that 'Phrase' based debate, when my eyes met theirs, sobered in a moment from the happiness, or pretended anger with which he was still flushed, smiled as he explained: “I need only have made myself pleasant!"
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 06-15-2017 at 01:39 AM.

  14. #329
    Registered User mesolzhenitsy's Avatar
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    ATTENTION PLEASE!!!!!! ATTENTION PLEASE!!!!!! ATTENTION PLEASE!!!!!!

    I shall be at the sea-side in the middle of the beach induced worldly heavens of the mediterranian sea! Goodby for one week then...okay?

    AT LAST SOLZHENOTSOF HAS REACHED AT THE END OF THE SUMMER HOLIDAY..
    THEN LET'S GO ON...

    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof

    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE

    It goes without saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologize
    Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/arti...#ixzz4Z1yWgPw5

    (Continuing from the last paragraph above but the next)

    .................................................. ............................

    One would have been there still; a good 'Eulogy' of humanism what does a man no harm but great grace, at any time. One day when one had gone out early in the afternoon to pay a call, and had failed to find the person at home whom one wished to see, it occurred to one to go, instead, to the routine, at an hour when, although one never went to one's house then as a rule, one knew that the friends as a whole shouldn't be always at the dining hall of 'Debate of Phrase', resting or writing letters until dinner time, and couldn't see each other even if they would enjoy seeing Anita and Philip Rankin for a moment, if it did not disturb them. The gardener told that he believed The Rankin's pair to be in; one rang the bell, thought that one heard a sound, that one heard footsteps, but no one came to the door. Anxious and annoyed, one went round to the other narrow lane, at the back of the mansion... Actually one stood not then beneath one's drawing-room window; the curtains were not drawn and one could see everything; one has not knocked loudly upon the pane, one shouted; still one came not to listen to oneself. One could see that the personalities in the neighbourhood within one's own inner world were staring at him. One turned away, thinking that, after all, one had perhaps been mistaken in believing that one heard footsteps; but one remained so preoccupied with the hope a propos humanist activities of one's that one could turn one's mind to nothing else. After waiting for a while, one returned. If one found oneself at home; one would have told oneself that one had been in the house when one rang, but had been asleep; the bell had awakened one; one had guessed that it must be one oneself, and had run out to run into oneself, but one had already gone. One had, of course, heard oneself knocking at the window. So one could at once detect in this story one of those fragments of literal truth which liars, when taken by surprise, console themselves by introducing into the concoct of the falsehood which they have to invent, thinking that it can be safely in well corporation, and will lend the whole story an air of volatile. It was true that, when one had just done something which the debating friends did not wish to disclose within the medium of the 'phrase', one would take pains to conceal it in a secret place in one's heart. But as soon as one found oneself face to face with the other in one oneself to whom one was obliged to tell the truth, one became profoundly easy, all one's ideas melted like wax before a flame, one inventive and one's reasoning faculties were vividly virile, one shouldn't ransack one brain but would find only a void; still, one must say something, and there lay within one's reach precisely the fact which one had not wished to conceal, which, being the truth, was the one thing that had remained. One broke off from it a tiny fragment, of no importance in itself, assuring oneself that, after all, it was the best thing to do, since it was a detail of the truth... And less frequent, therefore, than a being loyal to the verity. “At any rate, this is true,” one said to oneself; “that’s always something to the good; I may make inquiries; I will see that this is true; it won’t be this, anyhow, that will give me away.” But one was far away from the wrong; it was what gave not the 'phrase' away; one had not taken into account that the 'phrase' based detail of the truth had sharp edges which could not: be made to fit in, except to those contiguous ingredients of the debate from which one had arbitrarily detached it, edges which, whatever the fiction induced details in which one might embed it, would continue to show, by their overlapping angles and by the gaps which one had forgotten to fill, that its proper place was elsewhere. “One admits that someone heard me ring, and then knock, that someone knew it was myself, that someone wanted to see me,” one thought to oneself. “But that doesn’t correspond with the fact that one might not let me in.” One did not, however, draw one's attention to this inconsistency, for one thought that, if left to oneself, The debater might perhaps produce some fantasy which would give everybody a faint indication of the truth; one spoke; one did not interrupt oneself, one gathered up, with an eager and hopeful piety, the words that fell from the debaters' lip, feeling down right or rather rightly feeling, since one wasn't hiding the truth behind any background as one spoke that, like the veil of a sanctuary of 'debating the phrase', someone kept a vague imprint, traced a faint outline of that infinitely precious and, alas, undiscoverable truth of the 'phrase' what one had been doing, that afternoon, at three o’clock, when one had called the truth of which one would ever possess much more than these non-falsifications, illegible and divine traces, a truth which would exist henceforward only in the secretive memory of the debater, who would never contemplate it in utter ignorance of its value nor would yield it up to one.It was true that one had, now and then, a strong suspicion that 'The Debaters' Daily Activities' were not in themselves humanely sensitive, and that such relations as they might have with other people did exhale, naturally, in a universal sense, or for every humanist, a spirit against the morbid gloom capable of infecting with feverish moods or of inciting to give the strongest fight against the killers like suicide bombers. One realised, at such moments, that that interest, that gloom, existed not in one only as a exuberant feelings might exist, and that, once one was cured of the over excitation, the actions of theirs, the applause that somebody might have bestowed, would become once again as innocuous as those of countless other people, and yet the consciousness that the painful curiosity with which one now studied them had its origin only in oneself was not enough to make one decide that it was unreasonable to regard that all curious sensibilities as important, and to take every possible step to satisfy them. One had, in fact, reached an age the philosophy of which-supported, in his case, by the current philosophy of the day, as well as by that of the circle in which one had spent most of one's life, the group that surrounded the Rankin Family, in which one’s intelligence was understood to increase with the strength of one’s disbelief in negative things, and nothing real and incontestable was to be discovered, except the individual tastes of each of its members is no longer that of 'The Phrase' induced "Debate', but a positive, almost a medical philosophy as Dr. MES SOLZH would deal, the philosophy of The debater who, instead of fixing their aspirations upon external objects... So that the endeavour to separate from the accumulation of the years already spent a definite residue of thoughts and feelings which they can regard as characteristic and permanent, and with which they will deliberately arrange, before anything else, that the kind of existence which they choose to adopt shall prove harmonious. All the more one deemed it wise to make allowance in one's life for the suffering which one derived from not knowing what the others had done, just as one made allowance for the impetus which a wet weather always gave to one's slightly anxiety based on the tending to give-alternately-to give a strong joy; then he should to anticipate in his budget the donation linked happiness of a considerable sum on procuring, with regard to the daily occupations of the neighbours, without the lack of information-the lack of which would make one unhappy, just as one reserved a margin for the gratification of other 'humanitarian aid' from which one knew that pleasure was to be expected-at least, before one had fallen in love with 'phrase' such as one's taste for collecting cookies, or for the good memo of the humanist. When the host and hostess proposed to take leave of 'the debate', and the friends to have a good time to return home, one begged them to stay a little longer, and even detained the time of meeting around the dinner table forcibly, seizing the others by the arm as someone was opening the door to go. But one gave no thought to that, for, among the crowd of gestures and speeches and other little incidents which go to make up a conversation, it is inevitable that every debater should pass-without noticing anything that arouses our interest-by those that hide a truth for which our warranty of being a Good Samaritan are sharply searching, whereas on stop to examine other chances beneath which nothing lies concealed. One kept on saying: “What a big joy; you never by any chance come in these evenings, and the one time you do come then I miss you.” One knew very well that the debater generally was not sufficiently in love with 'phrase' to be so keenly distressed merely at having missed at the dinner table, but as one was a good-natured one, anxious to add 'the debate' pleasure, and often sorry not when one had done anything that annoyed 'the debater', one found it quite natural that one should be sorry, on this occasion, that one had deprived one of that pleasure of spending some hours in a special debating, which was so very great a pleasure, if not to oneself, at any rate to one, and all the same, it was a matter of so little importance that one's air of unrelieved sorrow began at length to bewilder one. One reminded 'the debater', even more than was usual, of the faces of some of the debaters created by the 'phrase.’ One had, at that moment, their downcast, heartbroken expression, which seems ready to succumb beneath the burden of a special subject as 'the phrase' not even too heavy to be borne, when the debaters merely allowing each other to play with a pomegranate, or watching the shadows of the world's great thinkers pour silhouettes into the chat. As an aside one had seen not any sorrow once before on the face of the friends, instead when, one could no longer say. Then, suddenly, one remembered it-the phrase-it was when no friend had lied, in apologising to Lady and Mr. Rankin on the evening after the dinner from which someone had stayed away on a pretext of illness, but really so that one might be alone with 'the phrase'. Surely, even had anyone been the most scrupulous of 'the phrase', one could hardly have felt remorse for so innocent an endless debate. But 'the debate' which one ordinarily told were less innocent, and served to prevent discoveries which might have involved one in the most terrible difficulties with one's friends at The Rankin's. And so, when one gave contribution to 'debate', smitten with hope, feeling oneself to be but feebly armed for one's defence against excessive happiness, super confident of success, one was inclined to laugh from sheer exhaustion, as new-borns weep sometimes when they have not slept. So one knew, also, that one's happiness, as a rule, was doing a serious amount of aid to the man devoid of aid to whom one was telling it, and that one might find oneself at one's mercy if one told it badly. Therefore one felt at once non-humble and anti-culpable in the friends' presence. And when one had to tell an insignificant, social verity its hilarious associations, and the memories which it recalled, would leave nobody weak with a sense of exhaustion and penitent with a consciousness of having been overcharged. What impressing verity-is it the word?-was one now concocting for everybody’s benefit, to give especially that reprieved expression, that non-plaintive voice, which seemed to falter beneath the effort that one was forcing oneself to make, and not to plead for pardon because of success while debating 'the phrase', huh? One had an idea that it was not merely the truth about what had occurred every evening of debate that one was endeavouring to hide from the omnipotent, madam teacher, and Doc, but something more immediate, something, possibly, which had not yet happened, but might happen now at any time, and, when it did, would throw a light upon that earlier intellectual camouflages of one's. At that moment, one heard the front-door bell ring. The debaters never stopped speaking, but their words dwindled into an inarticulate moan so that one regret at not having been more cautious, and one that evening, at having heard the door open to new neighbours, had melted into a universal ecstasy. One could hear the gate being closed, and the sound of a carriage, as though someone were going away-probably the people whom must on no account meet-after being told that Lady and Mr. Rankin were at home. And then, when one reflected that, merely by coming at an hour when one was not in the habit of coming, one had managed to disturb so many arrangements of which one did wish them to know, one had a feeling of abundant courage that amounted, almost, to gaiety. But since one was in love with them, since one was in the habit of turning all one's thoughts towards them, the sympathy with which one might have been inspired for oneself one felt for the 'phrase' lover only, and murmured: “rich material viz. the phrase!” When finally one left the debaters, one took up several letters which were lying on the table, and asked one if one would be so good as to post them for the social problems of the farmers like the members of the Rankin Family. One walked along to the dining hall, took the items from one's pocket, and, before dropping each of them at the dinner table, scanned their trade marks. They were-apparently-all to the same tradesman, no exception for them: from the first to the last, which were to one's needs. One kept them in one's hand. “If I saw what was in their nano structure,” one argued, “I should know what elements are belonging to them, to what they similar" said to oneself, "whether there really are anything common between them. Perhaps, if I couldn’t look inside, I should be lacking in delicacy towards 'The Debate', since in this way alone I can rid myself of a suspicion which is, perhaps, a calumny at the dinner table, which must, in any case, cause the friends suffering, and which can never possibly be set at rest, once the general formula is not deciphered." One left not the hall and went not home, but one had kept every items at the table. One lighted a candle, and held up close to its flame the trade mark labels or rather carved marks which he had not discerned to the ulterior. Although at first one could distinguish nothing, but the trade-mark on the surface wasn't thin, and by pressing it down on to the stiff surface one could not yield anything through the solid, say, walls neither to make the words more nor less distinguishable. They were like a coldly formal, solid, and stiffened, even petrified signature of the producers. If, instead of its being oneself who was looking at more letters to address to the peevish eyes like one's, it had been one who had see the letters as dried symbols saying nothing to one who might have found words in all trade-marks of another, a far more tender kind so that one took a firm hold of the gems, which was sliding to and fro at the dinner or rather debate table devoted to 'the phrase', and the table cover being too large for them and then, by moving them with one's finger and thumb, brought one line after another beneath the part of the structures where the trade-marks would not be doubled, through which alone it was possible to read only the thing having been read already! In spite of all those individually significant and yet social baseless manoeuvres he could make something out clearly. Yes that it mattered, for one had seen enough to assure oneself that the letter was about some trifling incident of humanly importance, and had nothing at all to do with loving 'The Phrase'; it was something to do with The Rankin’s guests. One had read quite plainly at the beginning of the line “Made in....” but did not understand what had been right made in any country, until suddenly a word which one had been able, at first, to decipher, came to light and made the whole sentence intelligible: “The producer is right to produce it; it was the producer's production.” To produce the production! Then all factories had been in their proper places when one rang the bell at The Rankin's, and one had sent oneself away; hence the sound that the voices of 'The Debater' had heard. After that one read the whole letters of the Trade mark; at the end one apologised for having treated the guests of The Rankin's Family with so little ceremony, and reminded oneself that one had left no cigarette-case at one's house for one wouldn't smoke, precisely what one had read for oneself after one of one's routine visits. And yet to the others one had added: “Why did you not forget 'the debate' or rather 'the phrase' also? I should never have let you have that backing future or coming past.” To omnipotent and Doc. nothing of that sort; no allusion that could suggest any intrigue between their paradoxical statements. And, really, one was obliged to admit that in all this business the others had been well treated than aid agency workers, since one was writing to the members of The Rankin Family to make them believe that their visitors had been all liberal chaps. From which it followed that one was the people to whom one attached importance, and for whose sake one had sent the other away. And yet, there had been everything between one and the others and, so have opened the door at once, so have said, “I was right to open the door; it was our debating group-debating the phrase.” Right? Yes 'right' for one was doing nothing wrong at that moment how could the others possibly have accounted for them not opening the door? For a time one stood still there, far from having been heartbroken nor bewildered, and yet happy; gazing at this envelope which one had handed to oneself without a scruple, so absolute was one's trust in one's honour; through the mansion's transparent window there had been disclosed to him, with the secret history of an incident which one had despaired of ever being able to learn, a fragment of the verity of 'The Phrase', seen as through a narrow, luminous incision, cut into its surface without anybody's knowledge. Then one's jealousy free mood rejoiced at the discovery, as though that being jealousy free had had an independent existence, fiercely non-egotistical, gluttonous of every good things that would feed its vitality, even at the expense of one oneself. Then it had production in store, and one could begin to grow uneasy afresh every evening, over the visits that the family members of The Rankin had received about dinner time, and could seek to discover where one-oneself-had been at that hour. For one’s affection for the debaters-debating 'The Phrase' still preserved the form which had been imposed on it, from the debut of phrase induced debate, by his ignorance of the occupations in which one passed one's days, as well as by the mental lethargy which prevented one from supplementing that ignorance by imagination. One was not jealous, at first, of the whole of one’s life, but of those moments only in which an incident, which one had perhaps misinterpreted, had led one to suppose that one might have played 'The Debater' false. One's eagerness, like a web of the most mighty spider which throws out a first, then a second, and finally a third tentacle, fastened itself irremovably first to that moment-down right-in the evening, then to another. But one was incapable of inventing one's sufferings so that hey were only the memory, the perpetuation of a suffering that had come to one from with nothing at all or rather from without, however, everything brought one fresh suffering. One decided to separate 'The Debate' from 'The Phrase', by taking each one away for a few ways to the main subject. And yet one imagined that one was coveted by every subject per in the library, and that the matter coveted them in return. And so one, who, in old days, when one travelled, used always to seek out new people and crowded places, might now be seen fleeing savagely from anti-humanist groups of the world as if it had cruelly injured one. And how could one not have turned misanthrope, when in every people one saw a potential lover for 'The Debate?' Thus one's scientific and artistic jealousy did even more than the happy, passionate desire which one had originally felt for 'The Phrase' had done to alter one’s character, completely changing, in the eyes of the old earth, even the conspicuous features by which that character had turned to be much more intelligible. A month after the first evening on which one had intercepted and read The Phrase’s basics apt to be debated to the friends, one went to the most magnificent dinner which The Rankin's family was giving in the spirit of the climax remarking the output within the debate, and as the debate party was breaking up one noticed a series of whispered discussions between the omnipotent and several of the guests of The Rankin Family, and thought that it could be heard the guitarist being reminded to come next day to a special party of 'the phrase' then one had naturally been invited to it par. The friends had spoken only in whispers, and in vague terms, but both the painter and the guitarist, perhaps without thinking, shouted out: “ Please watch out for the pianist for here must be no lights of any sort, and the player must play the music describing moon light in the dark!” Lady Rankin, seeing that one was within earshot, assumed that expression in which the two-fold desire to make the speaker be quiet and to preserve, oneself, an appearance of impending hobgoblin induced hard musical notes in the eyes of the listener, is neutralised in an intense vacuum of silence; in which the unflinching signs of intelligent complicity are overlaid by the smiles of innocence, an expression invariably adopted by anyone who has noticed a part of 'The Phrase', the enormity of which is thereby at once revealed if not to those who have made it, at any rate to him in whose hearing it ought not to have been made so that one seemed suddenly to be in rejoicing, as though one had decided to struggle any against the crushing difficulties of playing Beethoven... And one was happily counting the minutes that still separated one from the point at which, after leaving several phrases towards 'the phrase', while one drove one's home, and one would be able to ask for an explanation, to make the others promise, either that they would not go to new horizons in music next day, or that one would procure an invitation for The Omnipotent-the leader of the debate-also, and to lull to rest in the musical arms of the composer the anguish that still rejoiced all guests of The Rankin family. At last the next meeting ordered. The omnipotent and The Doc. said to one: “Welcome, then. We shall see your ability in the debates of 'The Phrase' soon, we hope,” trying, by the friendliness of one's manner and the constraint of one's smile, to prevent one from noticing that they wouldn't saying, as she would always have until then: “The next dinner, then, at The Rankin's...” M. and Mme. Rankin made one get into their family library; one’s was drawn up every corners of it, and one waited for theirs to start before helping one into one's own to reach the documents therein. “We’ll take you,” said Mme. Rankin, “we’ve kept a little corner in the library specially for you, beside ours” “Yes, Mme. Rankin,” said one meekly. “What! I thought I was to take you that of mine,” cried one, flinging discretion to the winds, for all the shutters of the windows hung open, time was precious, and one could not, in one's present state, sit down on a stool with nothing to read and added “But Mme. Rankin has asked me . . . ” “That’s all right, you can quite well back home when you will; we’ve left you like this dozens of times,” said Mme. Rankin. One remarked, “But I had something important to tell M. Rankin”“Very well, you can write it to him instead.” “Good-bye,” said one, holding out one's hand, and one tried softly to smile, but could only succeed in looking utterly rejoiced. “What do you think of the airs that the Omnipotent is pleased to put on with us?” Mme. Rankin asked her husband when they had reached at one of the ends of the episode in debating the phrase. “I was afraid he was going to eat all lovely musical notes, simply because he offered to take the friends back. It really is too much interesting, that sort of thing. Why doesn’t he say, straight out, that we keep a well orderly audience? I can’t conceive how the guests listening to the music here can oppose to such good manners. He positively seems to be saying, all the time, ‘The Phrase belongs to me!’ I shall tell you exactly what I think about it all, and I hope he will have the sense to appreciate me.” A moment later she added, inarticulate with love: “No, but, do you see, the super-man... ” using unconsciously, and perhaps in satisfaction of the same obscure need to justify the omnipotent's ability-like Kutuzov at the battle field in Tolstoy's everlasting novel when the Muscovite refused to surrender-the very words which the last convulsions of an inoffensive angel in her help to death agony wring from the patient who is engaged in taking its life. And when Mme. Rankin’s proposal had moved on in the medium of a soft altercation, and one’s took one's place at the dinner table-assigned mainly for 'debate' and 'phrase again, catching sight of others' face, asked whether they were unwell, or had heard too much good news to be believed in. So that one would prefer to send them away; one would prefer to talk oneself, and it was with a speed gaining at all levels of thought and sense, through the deal. say 'Debating The Phrase', that one came to an end in the position of having been garrulous for the time being. So one talked to oneself, aloud, and in the same slightly affected tone which one had been used to adopt when describing the charms of the ‘little nucleus viz. the phrase’ and extolling the magnanimity of the debating guests of The Rankin Family. But just as the conversation, the smiles, the kisses-between Lady and Monsieur Rankin-became as really auspicious to one as one had once found them charming, if they were diverted to others than oneself, so at the Rankin's which, not an hour before, had still seemed to one amusing rather than auspicious, inspired with a genuine feeling for art and even with a sort of thought and sense based aristocracy, now that it was another than himself whom all the guests were going to meet there, to love there without restraint, laid bare to one all its abundance from the point of humanity, its philanthropy, its honour. Then one drew a fanciful picture made of words, at which one shuddered in zest, of the debate-party next evening at there. “Imagine not coming to the dinner table at The Rankin's, of all places, say, like a lot of drapers after closing time! Upon my word, these people would be sublime in their smugness; they couldn’t really exist; they must all have come out of one of 'No Phrase' a world!” cried one, "The Members of The Rankin's Family would be there; possibly extremely surviving. Could anything be more miraculous than the lives of these great people, hanging on to one another like that. They should be imagining that they would utterly win when they were utterly lost, upon my soul they could do it, if they could do all meet again to-morrow at The Table for both dinner and debate!” Thanks to God! there would be the painter alongside the guitarist if not pianist, and there also, the lover viz. follower of them who enjoyed match-making, who would invite others to come with them to be at The Rankin's. One could see others' spouses, in the dresses far too smart for the country for it is not to be afraid of seeming vulgar in that way, and, poor great people, one is such a witty person! He could hear the jokes that Mme. Rankin would make after dinner, jokes which, whoever the ‘bore’ might be at whom they were aimed, had always amused one because one could watch they laughing at themselves, laughing with one, their laughter almost a part of one's. Then one felt that it was possibly at one that they would make the friends laugh. “What a splendid form of humour!” one exclaimed, twisting one's mouth into an expression of unwilling to show the inner volume of one's mouth so quickly that one could feel the muscles of one's cheek stiffen against one's lips... “I wonder how, in God’s name" remarked one, "can a person made in his or her image find anything to laugh at in those excitability induced witticisms? The least sensitive nose must be driven away in hope from such fresh exhalations. It is really impossible to believe that any human being is incapable of understanding that, in allowing oneself merely to smile at the expense of a fellow-debater who has loyally held out his hand to one, one is casting oneself into a heaven from which it will be possible, with the best will in the world, ever to rescue one. I dwell so many miles above the puddles in which these interesting little vermin sprawl and crawl and bawl their childish merriment, that I cannot possibly be spattered by the witticisms of-generally-a debater!” one added, tossing up one's head and arrogantly straightening one's body, “God knows that I have honestly attempted to pull the best results out of that debate, and to teach one to breathe the same and purer air. And yet human patience has its limits, and mine is at an end,” he concluded, as though this sacred mission to inflame the hottest attention away from an atmosphere of sarcasms dated from longer than a some sessions ago, as though one had not undertaken it only since it had occurred to one that those sardonic attempts might, perchance, be directed at oneself, and might have the effect of detaching the worn out friends from the debate. One could see the guitarist sitting down to play the sonata, and the grimaces of Madam Teacher, in profoundly pleasure anticipation of the healing of her nerves by the composer’s music intensified in telling about the moon-light or rather the moon's light. “Humanist Debater, Debating 'The Phrase', long live you all!” one shouted suddenly, “and a people like that imagines that The Debater’s fond of Science and Art!” One would say to the friends, after deftly insinuating a few words of praise for The Rankin's Family, as one had so often done for oneself: “You can make room The Omnipotent, The Guitarist, The Painter there, can’t you, friends?” . . . ‘“At the dinner table, in the soft light of the evening!’ White Whale! Flipper!” . . . ‘Flipper’ was the name one applied also to the musician which would invite them to sit in silence, to dream together, to gaze in each other’s eyes, to feel for each other’s hands. One felt that there was much to be said, after all, for a sternly approval attitude towards the arts and thought, such as ancient Greek's thinkers adopted, and the old school of education in the debut of structuring the Modern World. In a word, the life which they led at The Rankin's, which one had so often described as ‘genuine,’ seemed to one now the worst possible form of life, and their ‘Phrase’ the most degraded class of society. “It really is,” one repeated, “beneath the lowest rung of the social ladder, the nethermost circle of Socrates, and beyond a doubt, the ancient Greeks' words of the sense and thought refer to the guests of the Rankin' Family! When one comes to think of it, surely people ‘in society’, though one may find fault with them now and then, still, after all they are a very different matter from that group of debaters show a profound sagacity in not refusing to know the basics of the science and art well defined in a high level of one of the well civilized tongue, or even to clean the tips of the significant hand gestures with them. What a sound intuition there is in that prayer: "Saint Germine, look down from Heaven and intercede for the many abused children in our world. Help them to sanctify their sufferings. Strengthen children who suffer the effects of living in broken families. Protect those children who have been abandoned by their parents and live in the streets. Beg God's mercy on anyone who abuses children. Intercede for handicapped children and their parents. Saint Germaine, you who suffered neglect and abuse so patiently, pray for us. Amen!" One had long since emerged from the processes and methods of the debate, one had almost reached one's own output, and still, for one had not yet thrown off the explanations of both thought and sense, or one's whim of sincerity, but was ever more and more exhilarated by the strong intonation, the artistic sonority of one's own voice, one continued to perorate aloud in the silence at the dinner table: “People ‘in debating The Phrase’ have their failings, as no one knows better than I; but, after all, they are people to whom some things, at least, are impossible; etcetera, etcetera...” The fashionable group whom one had known “was far from being perfect, but, after all, one did find in one's a fundamental delicacy, a loyalty in one's conduct which made one, whatever happened, incapable of a felony, which fixes a vast gulf between the others and an old omnipotent! What a name: The Omnipotent! Oh, there’s something complete about them, something almost fine in their trueness to type; they’re the most perfect specimens of their rejoicing class! Thank God, it was high time that I stopped condescending to promiscuous intercourse with such 'debate', such tusk.” But, just as the virtues which one had still attributed, an hour or so earlier, to the friends, would not have sufficed, even although the friends had actually possessed them, if they had not also favoured and protected their love, to excite one to that state of intoxication in which one waxed tender over their magnanimity, a feeding or rather feeding back which, even when disseminated through the medium of other persons, could have come to one from others alone; so the immorality-had it really existed-which he now found in the friends would have been powerless, if they had not invited others with all guests and without one, to unstop the vials of one's hope and to make one scarify their ‘innocence.’ Doubtless one’s voice showed a finer perspicacity than one's own when it refused to utter those words full of humanism, sensitivity, having been witty, at the Rankin's and their circle, and of joy at one's having shaken oneself free of it, save in an artificial and rhetorical tone, and as though one's words to be used in the debate had been chosen rather to appease one's neat style than to express straightforwardly one's thoughts. The latter, in fact, while one abandoned oneself to invective, were probably, though one did not know it, occupied with a colourful matter, for once one had reached one's position, no sooner had one closed the front-door behind one's every proposal than one suddenly struck one's forehead, and, making one's friends open the door again, dashed out into the process shouting, in a voice which, this time, was quite natural; “I believe I have found a way of getting invited to the dinner at The Rankin's to-morrow!” But it must have been a better way, for one was to be invited... . Doc and the Omnipotent, who, having been summoned to attend a serious case in the session of 'The Phrase', had to be seen at the Rankin's for some days, and had been prevented from appearing at the dinner induced debating table and vice versa, said, on the evening after that dinner, as one sat down to table at their house: “Why, aren’t we going to see one this evening? One is quite what you might call a personal friend . One sincerely trust that one shan’t!” cried Lady Rankin. One took pride in that exclamation “Heaven preserve us from others; one’s too should be deadly for words, a lover, good manner friend.” On hearing these words Lady Rankin exhibited an intense astonishment blended with entire submission to noble friendship, as though in the face of a scientific truth which contradicted everything that one had previously believed, but was supported by an irresistible weight of evidence; with timorous emotion one bowed one's head over one's plate, and merely replied: “O Gosh!” traversing, in an orderly retirement of one's forces, into the depths of one's being, along a descending scale, the whole compass of one's voice. After which there was no more talk of one at the Rankin's. And so that dining hall which had brought the omnipotent and Doc. together became an obstacle in the way of their meeting. One no longer said to him, as one had said in the early days of their love: “We shall meet, anyhow, to-morrow evening; there’s a supper-party at the Rankin's’,” but “We shan’t be able to meet to-morrow evening also; there’s a dinner or rather debate-party at the Rankin's’.” Or else the Rankin's were taking one to the friends, to share the speculations about 'The Phrase', and one could read in their eyes that the greatest happiness lest one should ask others not to go, which, but a little time before, one could not have refrained from greeting with a kiss as it flitted across the face of one's friend, but which now exasperated one. “Yet I’m not really angry,” one assured oneself, “when I see how they long to run away and scratch from maggots in that tower of harmony. I’m disappointed; not for myself, but for friends; disappointed to find that, after living for more than six months in daily contact with each other, one has not been capable of improving one mind even to the point of spontaneously eradicating from it a taste for 'The Debater' generally! More than that, to find that one has not arrived at the stage of understanding that there are evenings on which anyone with the least shade of refinement of feeling should be willing to forego a deep philosophy when one is asked to do so; so that one ought to have the sense to say: ‘I shall not go to debate superficially anymore,’ if it were only from procedure, since it is by what one answers now that the quality of one's soul will be determined once and for all.” And having persuaded oneself that it was solely, after all, in order that one might arrive at a favourable estimate of one’s 'Phrase' induced worth that one wished the friends to stay at Rankin's with one that evening instead of going to any cafe, one adopted the same line of reasoning with one, with the same degree of insincerity as one had used with oneself, or even with a degree more, for in one's case one was yielding also to the desire to capture the others by one's own self-esteem. “I swear to you,” one told the others, shortly before one was to leave for the theatre, “that, in asking you not to go, one should hope, were one a selfish man, for nothing so much as that the others should refuse, for one have a thousand other things to do every evening, and one shall feel that one have not been tricked and trapped oneself, and shall be thoroughly satisfied and happy, if, after all, the others tell one that they are not going. But one's occupations, one's pleasures are not everything; they must think of one also. A day may come when, seeing one's irrevocably sundered from one, one will be entitled to reproach oneself with not having warned the others at the decisive hour in which one felt that one was going to pass judgment on them, one of those stern judgments which love cannot long be resisting furthermore!
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 07-04-2017 at 08:30 AM.

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    Quote Originally Posted by mesolzhenitsy View Post
    okay? Then here you are a very useful link to enlighten the academical kife of the authour as a scholar, thinker, and writer:
    http://nato-2013.freeforums.net/thre...l-prof-mustafasocial medicine/sosyal tıp assoc. & maestro prof. Dr. (dr., dr.,md.,ph.d mustafa erdoĞan sÜrat1-who is this mesolzhenitsy namely solzhenitsof or rather mustafa erdogan surat? Look above please at the first step the the lines below! 2-as for his academical life besides his autorship:
    okay!

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