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Kremena Dimitrova


In an ordinary working family, sometime during the 1980’s, one evening the wife came home from work a little late. The husband yelled at her right from the door because he had been hungry. “Where were you bumming around?” The women looked very happy. She was clinching a flat package in her hands. “What’s that?” yelled the husband. “A painting” - she answered timidly. “What painting, are you nuts? Why do you need a painting? Let me see it.” The woman untied the twine and removed the wrapping very carefully, not to damage the frame. “Landscape. Why do you need a landscape? And which place is that?” “The Danube river!” - proudly answered the woman. “How could that be the Danube? It looks nothing like the Danube.” “The guy told me it is somewhere around the town of Lom. I liked it a lot, and since you are from Lom, and because here in Sofia you miss the river so much …” “There’s no such place on the Danube! I’ve walked all along it. There’s no such place! They’ve fooled you, cheated you. And you gave them money. How much did you pay?” “60 leva.” “This is a half monthly wage! What are we going to eat now? What an idiot! We’re going to eat art! If it only were real art …” “I’ve been saving for half a year for this painting. The guy kept it for me.” “And where do you intend to hang it up? Just don’t tell me in the living room, I won’t be able to stand it.” “But where else, Goshe? There’s tile in the kitchen, in the bedroom the wardrobe is on one wall, your mother’s tapestry on the other!” Fine, in the living room, but put it on the wall behind the couch so I don’t look at it when I sit down. OK?


About a month later some friends came over for Christmas. Naturally, they sat down in the living room. The wife from the visiting family asked: “Very nice painting. Where is that place?” Goshe hurried to answer: “This is on the Danube. Close by Lom, I must have torn at least five pairs of shoes walking around there. It’s a nice one right?”



© Kremena Dimitrova
© Emil Lazarov - translated
© Електронно списание LiterNet, 01.09.2009, № 9 (118)