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Double Suicide of the Enamoured: Trilogy
Double Suicide of the Enamoured: Trilogy
Double Suicide of the Enamoured: Trilogy
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Double Suicide of the Enamoured: Trilogy

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The trilogy "DOUBLE SUICIDE OF LOVERS" consists of three stories. The first story is called "A new version of Cain and Abel, without the use of weapons." (The relationship of two brothers-artists, from extreme love, teaching, to envy, jealousy and murder.
The second story is called "The trail of their horses will howl in the snow". It is a tetratraptych about man's attitude towards horses and vice versa (love, devotion, victories, envy, revenge) with the subtitles Runaway Horse, Centaur, Meaningful Horse Speech and Blood, Genes and Big Snoring.
The third story, entitled "Senile Sea", describes the burning love of two lovers in their later years.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherXlibris UK
Release dateApr 7, 2022
ISBN9781664117570
Double Suicide of the Enamoured: Trilogy
Author

Sead Mahmutefendic

Sead MAHMUTEFENDIC (Sarajevo 1949). He graduated literature and languages from University of Belgrade. His books have been translated into 10 languages. He is the author of more than 30 books. Scientific symposium, organized in honor of his literary, essayistic and publicist work, entitled Modern Heretic Apocryphal Manuscript on Pre-apocalypse, emphasized that he is the writer whose creativity according to style and linguistic references could be contextualize in the South Slav and European literary space. His literary work tries to answer the question why there is so much violence, evil and lies among people in a wide range from empathy via irony to a sarcastic satire. Sead Mahmutefendic was nominated for IMPAC Dublin award in 2016.

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    Book preview

    Double Suicide of the Enamoured - Sead Mahmutefendic

    Copyright © 2022 by Sead Mahmutefendić.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

    in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

    recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

    without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

    product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

    to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and

    such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

    Scripture quotations taken from the New World Translation of the Holy

    Scriptures (NWT), copyright © 1961 of the Watch Tower Bible Society, The

    Jehovah’s Witnesses. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

    Rev. date: 04/05/2022

    Xlibris

    UK TFN: 0800 0148620 (Toll Free inside the UK)

    UK Local: (02) 0369 56328 (+44 20 3695 6328 from outside the UK)

    www.Xlibrispublishing.co.uk

    841648

    CONTENTS

    Prologue

    Prodigal Sons

    This is the Man I Was Told Was My Brother (Parallel Volcanoes)

    A New Version of Cain and Abel, Without the Use of a Weapon

    Prologue

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Our skin serves to touch and feel the other,

    but also to protect ourselves so that we do not fall apart.

    He who loves more is morally higher,

    and existentially lower.

    Author

    A NEW VERSION OF CAIN AND ABEL,

    WITHOUT THE USE OF A WEAPON

    A Tetraptych of the Fantasy Tale about the Dragon Brothers

    ⁹ And Jehovah said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother?

    And he said, I know not: Am I my brother’s keeper?

    ¹⁰ And Jehovah said, What hast thou done? The voice of thy brother’s blood

    crieth unto me from the ground. ¹¹ And now cursed art thou from the ground,

    which hath opened its mouth to receive

    thy brother’s blood from thy hand! ¹² When thou tillest the ground, it shall not

    henceforth yield unto thee its strength; a fugitive and a wanderer shalt thou be in the earth!

    Genesis 4:9–12

    1.

    Prologue

    Sometimes a man can get into a weird situation. Little by little and in the most natural way, but when he is already in the middle of it, he suddenly wonders and asks himself, how on earth did all this come about?

    When, for instance, a man ascends through an intellectual calvary, and then plunges down a mental cascade, he will inevitably, sooner or later, wake up one morning, perhaps a little more rested than usual, and begin to think.

    One such morning I was sitting and writing in my diary.

    20 March ‘20

    As a child, K. loved the shaytān. He loved him, even though he knew he should not. That was his first escape from an orderly bourgeois life. He secretly ran to the room of his unloved younger paralytic brother. His passion was great. Right up until the moment when the shaytān was no more, when he lost him because he grew up. But that kind of courage stayed with him for good. To love what is forbidden and ugly, as they say. As they say blindly, never questioning. Children get a beating because of the division of the world into the ugly and the beautiful, and later wars are fought over it. The shaytān thought K. that children’s games, card games, Man, Don’t Get Angry, are boring. The shaytān thought him the seriousness of life, he wrote. Not the angels. He was gray, ugly, defenseless. And everyone was against him. Other laws of love often reign in the adult world. But that the shaytān can be more beautiful than the prince, that remains unprovable. Only the facts of love count, K. knew that, he was truly impervious to any other seduction.

    23/III

    This is the beginning of the search for beauty, my constant struggles with expression and reflection of form. I liked it because of the illusion of movement.

    28 March

    I will say the last enough while I stand as I am – the shadow of mine in its beauty.

    28/3 afternoon

    So it is being told that, usually when the sun penetrated her room, she would spread a white sheet over the floor and dance naked on it, falling into a burning ecstasy. In such a state, she would sing a folk love song, and with her moves she would express the grief of an abandoned and deceived girl.

    1/4

    Behind the masks of childish expression on her face, hidden were determination and boastful arbitrariness. For the first time she felt a silence that frightens the heart. It was a fear of the enigmatic silence of solitude.

    2/4

    All these noises blended soon. Their symphony was quivering, almost evocative.

    4/IV

    Their eyes would immerse into each other’s. It has always been the conflict between Antigone and Jocasta. This was the way a special trustworthiness developed between them. It sprouted day after day and abruptly began to put forth branches. They got closer to each other. They became allies in the deaf tower. They remained like that until their deaths. Faithful and loyal to each other.

    6/4 Sarajevo Liberation Day

    His heart often listened to the muffled storms. Something was breaking in the depth of his spirit.

    And as from death the living flee, /So from the vital flame flee we.-G. Leopardi

    I don’t feel like writing the date

    Encounters with the Sarajevan writers did not delight me, but they were useful to me, because I realized that there are many self-proclaimed but very few chosen.

    10/4

    Why is it so in life that children find everything in nothing, whereas adults see nothing in everything? Because humans, although they are the most unfortunate of all living creatures, still more than any other creature rejoice in every painless escape from the world, and as a rule, in oblivion of themselves and in every interruption of life. They do not draw insignificant satisfaction from this, since then an interruption occurs, but for a while they alleviate the feelings and awareness of their own misfortunes.

    15 April

    Just as Anacreon wished that he could be transformed into a mirror, so that the one he loved could keep watching him constantly, I would like in a similar way to turn into a bird to experience the pleasure and joy of their lives.

    17/4

    I am not a philosopher and I have not sought to create a system by my philosophical books. Contrariwise. As a sensitive and thinking man, I longed to achieve mental balance and, by poetic sensation, to give my perceptions, or rather, leave a mark on my own life and my life experience. Time is worse than Shakespeare’s Shylock, it is ruthless, trampling and seizing the best of strengths. In the eternal course of life, Tantalus is often powerless. Still one must strive. He still has to strive. Our only strength in the devastating nothingness is our thought with which we resist all dark forces.

    20/IV

    There are no proofs in literature, only hypotheses. Each hypothesis is prone to new and new assumptions so that we should not be shocked, but amazed.

    22/4

    If death is still powerful, am I not entitled to it. Haven’t I dreamed enough about life, that same life that is now fizzling out.

    24 April Fools

    Here lies the one who was the way in which words think about words.

    25/IV

    I should be seen as a man, as a Bosnian and as a great talent. My good qualities come from being, above all, a human being, and the bad ones from being a Bosnian and a Bosnian nobleman. My talent is immeasurable.

    The power that always clings to evil, and constantly creates good-that is the alchemy of literature.

    28/4

    Man was not created for this world, nor was he created for another man.

    29/4

    Everything that surrounds us, everything that we pass unconsciously, everything that we touch and do not feel, everything that we encounter and do not notice, influences us quickly, surprisingly and inexplicably.

    30 April

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