A bunch of seven narrations: inspired by life

By Manakhatan Boldsukh

That book " A bunch of seven narrations" is a composition of seven short stories, each unique and colorful, to be discovered by all the readers, to whom I dedicated the stories inspired by life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: tredition
• Release date: Aug 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9783347375444

Book preview

Ladybug

What worth is the life to live when your heart doesn’t beat like a drum, with its rhythm you can’t stop dancing. But, sometimes we have to take a break to learn dance with more passion.

At one point of my life I stopped dancing, where my heart began to beat too slow to seduce me to the dance floor. Well, I had to take a break from the dance floor, a long break, which set me to an extraordinary journey in the shape of a ladybug, but with human sense. This wonderful experience as a ladybug opened my eyes and let me dance again, this time with more passion.

I was traveling with my dear friend Victor, more precisely in his briefcase. Victor was a handsome, American journalist in his fifties as I later found out and he was just beginning his almost business trip to perform a miracle. I would call it miracle regarding his intention, which was far away to be considered clear, not to mention how much it was meant to him, to Victor. He found me, a ladybug, on the table next to the monument of Fernando Pessoa, the famous Portuguese author, at the Café Brasileira in Lisbon. He had a phone call as he glanced at me, answering to the call „Victor," as if he was addressing me saying his name to me. While he was drinking his double espresso, observed me, an insect, with so much kindness, as if a father had a look at his child not knowing enough how to express his love to him. In his eyes, I saw, through my eyes often a ladybug with human sense, his beautiful soul and I decided myself to rely on him.

It was my first time in the shape of a ladybug right after Lady Wong closed the door behind me by wishing me good luck, so I didn’t want to take any risk to be wrong, despite the hints of Lady Wong that I would be safe and I remembered to let it go with the wind, no matter wherever it blows, besides my time was too short to take anything into consideration.

After having paid his bill, Victor took me, a ladybug, who was looking at him breathless not knowing the next step, in his hand carefully and put me into his briefcase. Victor was one of those people who believe that ladybug bring luck, and held me for a lucky charm. As a ladybug, as an insect, living in his briefcase, I should make him happy, but in my human soul underneath the ladybug skin I was deeply unhappy.

The mysterious woman photographer

Without knowing exactly where we were going, I explored inside of the briefcase of Victor. He put me into an empty small compartment in front side of his leather briefcase where I had enough space to climb over. The briefcase had a very simple design, somehow trendy with a rounding gold metal zip, unusual for this kind of old stuff. „It must be a very old vintage piece, maybe once belonged to his father or grandfather," I thought. The leather was gold, brown and very soft. The smell of the leather was not really good, but I got used to the smell quickly in a way that people ignore less important stuff concentrating on their purpose. Then I found finally what I had looked for, a hole! There was a little hole, which meant a window to me. I was so happy about my discovery, I could imagine my big smile on my human face. A small window to the world could be able to allow you so much horizon.

Victor was striding along a street full of life. The beauty of this colorful picture passing by in front of my ladybug-eyes was incredible, full of style and flavor under the September sunshine, voices of children, women and men accompanied by the whistle of soft fresh wind, the smell of roasted chestnut, barking dogs, twittering birds. „Victor must be a tall man, at least one meter and eighty," I said to myself, his briefcase was hanging at his waist.

I tried to get an orientation, but my friend was going so fast that it was impossible to my ladybug-eyes to catch any street name. Once in my human-being I had stayed in Lisbon for a few days to attend in a marathon race, so I could have enjoyed this city with its beauty and wished Lady Wong to set my journey beginning in Lisbon.

After having passed by a place full of tourists Victor slowed approaching a big building „Gallery - contemporary Exhibition," which seemed to be his aim or the entrance to his aim. He passed by the ticket office and was stopped by a man who was carefully dressed up.

„Good evening, Gentleman, may I see your invitation," I heard him saying. My friend Victor took from the other compartment of my leather-briefcase-home his invitation and showed to the friendly man.

It was an exhibition of photography in a big hall blessed with excellent design, divided in three big parts.

Black-white photographs were hanging on the wall in big size, each of them was inspiring the whole ambition, telling unique stories from every corner of the world, reflecting the beauty of life, about everything what heal sore eyes. Victor was wondering each of them deeply, studying them thoroughly, by the rhythm of his breath I could tell that the pictures were absolute breathtaking.

His great concentration on the pictures was interrupted by a neatly dressed gracious waitress, who offered him green and white cocktail from her silver tablet. By choosing one of them Victor thanked her and asked,

„Is Madam Pralle present here tonight?"

I heard her replying,

„I am afraid, no, Gentleman, she had been here only yesterday to open her last lifetime exhibition, to sign on the illustrated books of her pictures over there and I am not sure, if she would stay longer in Lisbon."

„I am a journalist from America and I have arrived this afternoon to interview her. Could you tell me where I can encounter her?", sounded Victor.

The waitress suggested him to come back there in the next morning at 10 a.m., where the manager of the exhibition would be present.

Left on his own, Victor laid his eyes on a picture, the last one, which my window, the little hole, allowed me to enjoy my eyes. It must have been night, big moon was shining over a river flowing down to the hill. I could imagine the sound of the river and the mixed smell of moisture and nature at night.

Black-white, how could a black-white picture reveal so much beauty? Was it the matter of its liveliness? Why the Madam Pralle had taken her pictures only in black-white, why she had to ignore colors? Possibly she left the colors to be painted in the beautiful mind of its observers.

Victor turned to see the big clock on the wall which allowed me to have a look at the people filling the hall, even though it was already dark outside. It was 9 p.m., I was excited about the next step of Victor, the map of my short life as a ladybug was depending on him.

And then Victor left that inspiration hall and hailed a taxi, which stopped right there in front of him, and drove us through Lisbon to his Hotel. As he arrived the hotel reception, I heard a calm friendly voice addressing to him,

„Good evening, Monsieur, your room is ready now, you can get your luggage from the store room, here is the key, room Nr.11, on the first floor. Have a nice stay, good night".

As we took the elevator, I lost my consciousness right there, I still cannot tell why, maybe my human sense was overwhelmed by my ladybug-being.

As I woke up, it was dark in my little room in the vintage briefcase of Victor and its smell had gotten worse which I believed myself to have got accustomed to. He left his briefcase open, even it were not the case, I could go out through my window, I mean the hole. In the hotel room it was not dark enough, Victor had already gone to bed and weak light of the street lamp through the window from outside made it possible to me a look around in the room. The neon light of an electric clock on the bed-table was showing 3 a.m., I must have been unconscious for almost 5 hours, I counted. On the wall behind the bed was hung a picture of a man wearing a hat, and a small beard over his lips, a cane in his left hand, he seemed to be famous and familiar to my human-sense, but his name stayed on the tip of my tongue.

I wanted to use my ladybug wings which couldn't succeed the first few times, because I was still thinking in my human-sense instead of my ladybug-being, which was the reason for my failure. Well, I had to adapt myself to my reality, physically.

Finally, I could fly, what a nice feeling, even the flight was limited and its cosmos as well. I flew through the hotel room, from one side to another, over sleeping Victor, who was snoring greatly which could be the noise of my engine if I were an airplane. Till then I couldn’t have imagined that flying would be so much effort even for a ladybug. My flight was not an easy game to play, but gave me enough confidence to be able to move this kind of heavy mechanic.

After having amused like a little child testing my heavy wings, I landed on the night table close to Victor’s bed where I could have a look at sleeping Victor. By then, I had gained little information on him: his name, his profession and the purpose of his journey. „He must have been a very handsome man in his youth, I thought, „and he remained still attractive.

Some people become the more attractive the older they get. Victor was one of them. His face was clean shaved, had a nice tan, as if he had spent the whole summer on the beach, few deep wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, a sign of his kind way and his bright forehead was revealing his intelligence, his soft dark gray hair, let me think he was about in his fifties and big muscles of his arm should impress every woman to be safe in his arms.

I flew back to my little room in the front compartment of Victor’s briefcase to wait for the next morning. I should be killing time by thinking about my past before I found myself in the cabinet of Lady Wong, but there was no appetite for any rotten stuff and by the way, my next step which would depend on Victor was more exciting than any souvenir of the desert.

I woke up from my nap by the wake-up call. Victor had already stood up and was standing in front of the mirror on the bathroom door two ties in his hand, obviously he wanted to make a choice. I couldn’t really tell them apart, maybe it was an effect of my ladybug-being, but I was happy that Victor chose one of them easily and dressed himself up.

He was a sort of men, whose dress code was elegant, classic and he had got a gentlemanly manner. He approached my leather home, checked his documents and glanced at me with his familiar kindness, as if I were going to make his day, and closed the zip. I hated the noise of the golden zip which was going through my spine, making my ladybug wings tremble.

After less than two hours we found ourselves in the exhibition hall. The big clock on the wall was showing 10 a.m. This time no invitation was asked, and Victor was greeted by the familiar waitress who was standing next to a middle-aged dark haired elegant man who was supposed to be the manager.

„Good morning, Monsieur, nice to meet you, I am Albert, the manager of this exhibition, I was informed that you are a journalist, am I right?".

Victor told him his purpose and asked,

„How can I encounter Madam Pralle, I was told that she will be staying here till tomorrow and appointments for interviews were not allowed in advance, according to her assistant it would be made during the exhibition, that is why I came here only with an invitation for the event which took place yesterday and I had reckoned with the presence of Madam Pralle".

The manager smiled gently and replied,

„I regret to disappoint you, Monsieur, Madam Pralle is leaving Lisbon this morning. I can’t tell you where would be her next stop, because I myself don’t know her whereabouts, in her late seventies she is still fit enough to fly to the moon and not come back. Even if I would have asked her I had stumbled in her trick to protect her privacy not to be hunted. As you might know she is a very modest personality who avoid public and tabloids, and you seem to have been caught in her trick."

Victor asked the manager, if he knew someone here in Lisbon, who would be friend of Madam Pralle. But, the answer was „No," and Victor thanked to the manager and went into the exhibition shop to buy an illustrated book of Madam Pralle, where his luck was waving to him.

The exhibition shop was more crowded than the exhibition itself which was more than ten times smaller than the big hall. I noticed that not the content, but the volume decides about being crowded. Victor passed by the queue at the cash desk carefully not to hurt anyone, and took one of the thick illustrated books in oversized format which were placed on a wide white ceramic shelf in the middle of the shop. As he had taken his place behind the queue waiting for his turn at the cash desk, I tried to climb out of my little window hole tugging myself over the button of his jacket upwards and find a place behind the knot of his tie, which succeeded promptly providing me with a discreet place allowing an almost birds-eyes-view compared to my little room in a briefcase.

I was happy about my progress being able to climb over as a ladybug. My human-sense was hindering to be a ladybug using its natural ability, but my ladybug-being was accepting my human sense. And then I recognized the tie, which was chosen this morning by Victor so easily, a tie with small yellow dots on the blue silk.

Enjoying my new horizon from my new place I saw how Victor glanced at the small compartment in his briefcase as he took his credit card from the big compartment behind. Some of his way to deal with simple things reminded me a little boy. He might have felt that his lucky charm has left him on his own, but didn’t know I was there watching what I, the ladybug, was meant to him. He bought the book packed in comfortable sachet to be carried easily and headed for the door.

As we came outside looking for an unoccupied taxi, I noticed a fine tasty dressed elderly woman, who was approaching Victor, friendly smile on her wrinkled vital face, which revealed her beauty and art of her fine life. She was wearing pink elegant dress which went with the little pink bows on her black shoes perfectly, and carrying the carefully packed illustrated book from the exhibition shop. The elderly woman asked Victor:

„Excuse me, Monsieur, could you be the Victor Gray, who wrote about ‚evolution of the human-being, adjusting to a given condition‘?"

Victor smiled her back in his laid-back very confident way and replied her,

„Yes, Madam, It is me, Victor Gray. How did you know?".

She told him that a week ago she had read his book with great astonishment and held him for her soulmate, and she had recognized him by the photo on the backside of the book, which she had pinned in the mirror of her memory. She asked Victor what he was intending to do that day, if he had time to have a lunch with her in her place where other guests were expected. Victor hesitated for a while, which took the same time as I climbed from the window of my leather home to the knot of his tie, and he took her nice frank invitation in a very Portuguese way gladly. He asked her if she had visited the exhibition hinting at an illustrated book in her hand.

She replied,

„Yes, the day before yesterday I came here to visit the exhibition, afterwards became an illustrated book as a present, got able to fascinate beauty of the life on the couch at home. Today I came here to buy the illustrated book as a gift for my grandchild, who is greatly interested in photography and who is going to celebrate his eighteenth birthday next week." Then she waved to a black car which was approaching toward us, saying,

„There, my husband is coming, we are driving to our place. Come along with us."

„Darling, we have a special guest to drive home with, here is Monsieur Victor Gray," said the woman as she got into the car. Her husband made a Portuguese sound of joy and stretched his hand towards Victor greeting,

„We are big fans of your work, it is a great pleasure to welcome you, by the way, I am Mateo and turned to his wife „Is everything all right? which was responded with a bright smile.

The drive took almost thirty minutes because of the traffic, it was about noon, still rush hour. The name of that elegant woman was Catherine, her husband was a black haired snug friendly man in his seventies who had kept well and had an aura of the generous lovely family father. They were discussing about the weather of Lisbon and America and the impact of nature and weather on customs and culture of the people, as we stopped in front of the very typical Portuguese house decorated artfully with ceramics and mosaics.

A long black haired woman about fifty years old with a gentle smile on her face wearing pink dotted gray apron opened the door and Catherine introduced her to Victor as Maria, whose cuisine was the most delicious and incredible creature in humankind, at least in her point of view. She came to their house to master the kitchen in special occasions, like that day, where the nice couple had invited other two couples, their friends from their youth.

Mateo led us to their garden behind the big living room which we had passed through slowly in a manner of museum visitors, where Maria brought them her house-made aperitif, lemon sorbet served in sweet lily glasses.

Catherine brought the book of Victor to become his autograph on it and apologized for having to leave the men alone for a while to help Maria in the kitchen and disappeared into the nicely kept house. There were sounds of doorbell mixed with quickly speaking Portuguese to be heard, but this matter of humankind like joy and hugs were getting far away from my consciousness. I was overwhelmed with the scent of the garden and the pleasant sound of the small antique fountain in the middle of the garden, which woke up my ladybug-being intensified and set me to a freedom in the nature. But, my human sense shouldn’t have missed the conversation of Victor and Mateo.

In fact, my duty as a ladybug was to gain a taste of life again, which would allow me to the dance floor, and that discovery should not be limited by other human-beings battle for their life purpose. We could gain the ability to compose music by absorbing the beauty of this world by recognizing each of them, even if you were abandoned by love which normally bless you with wild heartbeat, rhythm on the dance floor and with smiling lightness.

Well, I decided to follow my animal instinct for an instant. My heavy wings seemed to have lost some weight, I flew over a row of yellow, orange blossomed bushes passing by the antique little fountain decorated with blue and rose mosaics, spreading water under the sunshine building a colorful rainbow over it. I flew through the rainbow, enjoying fresh water molecules on my ladybug face absorbing colors of the rainbow, afterwards landed on a lemon tree with effortful hanging lemons. What a struggle it must be meant to the branches to hold heavy ripe lemons with that much effort.

September in Lisbon was still summer as if it was ignoring any change of color. I enjoyed the colorful garden being guided by my animal instinct, which couldn’t last long in the presence of my human-sense. Suddenly, I felt a wave of fear shivering through my spine possibly having lost Victor, he might have been gone. I flew back to the garden table and was relieved to see them together at the garden table joined by two other couples.

As I arrived right shoulder of Victor, who was sitting at the round garden table covered with tasty dishes and glasses filled with colorful delicious creations from the kitchen, they were sunk deep in their conversation like bees in flavor of sweet hot pancakes in bakery of any corner in the world. I must have lost dimension of time, while I had been enjoying nature in the garden, it seemed to have taken a long time, they had already finished the meal and waiting for café and desserts to be served.

The two couples, who were friends of Catherine and Mateo, according to the plants in their garden which they told about, they came from Helsinki and must be in their sixties and were giving the impression of being intellectuals or someone who work in the field of fashion and design. I flew to the opposite side of Victor to be able to observe him, and landed on the light nylon rose scarf of the woman who was one of the guests. Her perfume was alluring, I could not tell what it reminded me, but I felt myself really pleased to have a place in the crease of her scarf surrounded by the scent of her perfume, which allowed me a great look at Victor, both my nose and eyes were indulged, but not my heart.

The warmth of sunshine and the coziness of the atmosphere made Victor free himself from his jacket and tie. His hair had become a change of color under the afternoon sunshine, but only in the eyes of its beholders. He was gesturing with the hands every time when he answered the questions of the couples. They went on discussing Victor’s book about „Evolution of human-beings, adjusting to a given condition".

One of the two couples asked Victor,

„What exactly inspired you to make this research? We read about the evolution of the planet and plants, but the evolution of the human-beings have not been put under the loupe as you did".

Victor hesitated for an instant, as if he brought his words into the right order, and replied,

„Well, I was asking myself the question about being in different conditions of the people caused by different factors, both political and human, and leading almost the same life in their senses, more exactly the same joy of life, as well suffering. Especially, during the journey of my honeymoon, about twenty years ago, in South Asia I was really touched by the poverty of the people and wondering how they keep a smile on the faces and the joy of life adjusting to their condition without knowing about other better alternatives. And, I also met people who used to living an upper intellectual level who later have to face difficult conditions and adjust themselves bravely to their new given environment, keeping their inner quality which they used to foster. The latter case makes people suffer the most in the same way you have to put up with shoes in smaller size. But, through this suffering based on upon inner quality happens an evolution of human-sense. And this evolution spices our lives by giving a sense to our human-being. God blessed humankind with much more ability than we know."

My ladybug wings were trembling, I could imagine my tears on my human face. The couples were really enjoyed every fascinating explanation in a flow of easy chosen words which came out of Victor's brain through his mouth. Right there, I was head over heels in love with him. His wife must be very happy being married to the cream of the crop like Victor.

Catherine told their guests about her encounter with Victor in front of the exhibition and how she discovered a handsome, elegant man standing there without a compass, afterwards recognized him as the author and how kind it was of him to accept an invitation of a stranger with so much naiveness. Victor smiled and turned to her,

„I was blinded by your charm and followed my intuition, which caused a choir of laughter strengthening their cheek muscles, bellies as well, and he continued, „Frankly said, I was very sad having missed Madam Pralle whose presence I reckoned with, actually it was my dream once in my life to interview her, a very discreet woman, and I wanted to make my dream come true before I quit my job as a journalist.

Then they went on to discuss about the inspiring contents of the exhibition and the depth of kindness combined with the heat of grapevine revealed us that Mateo once fell in love with Madam Pralle as he was working in Paris, almost thirty years ago, and Catherine made jokes that Mateo was not handsome enough to be loved by Madam Pralle and she preferred her photographs to Mateo.

Victor was blessed having had followed his intuition. He gained lots of information about Madam Pralle, who had herself kept discreetly to the public. But, the top of the cake was the fact that Madam Pralle had taken a flight to Jerusalem that morning, she had been sitting the day before on the same chair as Victor, discussing about the beauty of life with the three couples. For his luck he had to thank not only to the fatal appearance of Catherine, but more he was grateful to the hills somewhere closer to the sky which made the birth of grapevine possible.

Sun had already changed its color into orange and the women were covered with wool cloths, as they grasped the limit of time. The guests thanked to the host couple and Maria, who had already gone home and who had been indulging all their senses with her creatures. They exchanged their addresses to stay in touch hoping to see each other again, some time.

One of the guests, who had refused alcohol for that purpose, drove Victor to his hotel. There Victor took staircase, he was in such a hurry to catch any chance to be able to book a flight offered by some online service and in that moment he trusted more in his feet than an elevator.

I was deeply in thought, a kind of heavy feeling was rising inside of my ladybug shape, first I was highly impressed with the story of Madame Pralle, second I was meant to Victor nobody, but an insect, at most lucky omen for his journey, and the third, which made me more worry about was the flight to Jerusalem, „Can a ladybug overcome six hours on the plane?".

I was sitting in my little room of the leather briefcase observing Victor through the hole. He left his briefcase on the table where he had placed his laptop and his eyes and fingertips were eager to catch the opportunity. Victor was looking for a flight and obviously he had pulled a lucky strike, I could tell it by the disappearance of the deep wrinkle between his relaxed eyebrows.

He checked his documents and took his notices, which he had made that afternoon, out of his briefcase. And he began to type the phrases on his laptop which took almost three hours, but most of the time he spent by considering. Maybe he was searching within the vocabulary of his brain right phrases to put down the real color on the paper or he was just thinking about his own life. So far, I hadn't seen him having called his family or wife and he was not wearing any ring. He was himself with his lacking emotion more mysterious than Madam Pralle to me.

As I glanced at electric clock on the bed table, some familiar creature was smiling at me from the wall behind the bed, whose name had already left tip of my tongue, Charles Chaplin. His optimistic, easy going funny look was giving some pink or yellow nuance to Victor Gray who gave me an impression being adequate to be one of the black-white pictures of Madam Pralle.

After having prepared his luggage ready to set off next morning right after his checking out at the reception, Victor went to bed, there seemed to be no space remained to remember the ladybug who was observing him from his briefcase. I lost my sleep both in my human-sense and in ladybug-being, I was thinking about Madam Pralle, what she would be doing in Jerusalem. Next to me I saw her illustrated book in the sachet still not opened. I was not able to apprehend what Victor’s interview would be about, in my point of view, that afternoon he had acquired enough report on Madam Pralle to write about her. Maybe it was just a matter of an encounter where two people meet each other using the given opportunity and life chance, far away from being a matter of questioning. But, to me there was only one interesting point, in other words I would pose her only one question, „Why have you taken only black-white pictures?". As I had heard the brief story of Madam Pralle that afternoon, her life was a mixed blessing.

„Madam Pralle grew up in an orphanage somewhere in America, which was run by a family. Her parents left her right after her birth in hospital and escaped without trace, obviously she hadn’t been wanted. Later people had been spilling some selfmade beans about her parents, who might have grounded their family of each, and some of them had been involved in a crime. But, Madam Pralle ignored the beans and had never missed her parents, they became just strangers to her and by the time had already lost their meanings in her life, even if she wanted to know about them.

Her parents left a big gap in her life, which was filled with kindness of others. She was brought up by three generation crew of the orphanage who had showered her with warmth and love from the nursery section on till her high school graduation. She had been beloved by every one of the crew, by other people as well, because of her everlasting big smile on her chubby face which was far away to be considered an equivalent of Mona Lisa. This orphanage had provided her not only with an excellent education and personality, but also it was a place full of color and life.

On her twentieth birthday she became an unexpected visit of her relatives who introduced to her themselves being her uncle and aunt and informed the death of her father. They had pulled some strings and sent her to Europe to open her eyes to the world. So, she began her life in Paris in her early twenties, studied French language, in order to finance her living, she had been doing different jobs from waitress to an assistant. During her job as a fashion photographer’s assistant in Dior, where she worked later as a photo model because of her unique special look which was no match for the mirror of common beauty, she had encountered the love of her life. An open-minded, handsome gentleman with a big heart and warmth, who had travelled a lot and who recognized her beauty as a first person in her life. He fell in love with her from the first sight deeply. Then he must be in his late thirties and he had been meant to her husband, mentor, father and best friend all in one. They were married a few months later after their first encounter creating a passionate love story, but ended up in tragedy. Their happiness held only ten years, as the gentlemen died of an unknown disease. Since then, for almost forty years, Madam Pralle had led a life of solitude, taking pictures of life-moments filled with beauty and happiness which are temporary."

I woke up in my little room of the leather briefcase as wake up call sounded terribly. Victor was still sleeping, neon light of the bedside clock was showing 6 a.m., I had flown by plane a lot in my human-being, but as a ladybug I was worried about the flight. With the second try of the wake up call Victor stood up, he seemed to have slept deep and relaxed, maybe the information on Madam Pralle had taken some weight from his worries.

After having made himself ready for his journey, he had a look at the inside of his briefcase, discovered my presence and took me in his hand with a big childish smile on his face, and put me back into his briefcase, pulled its golden metal zip at once, its noise shivering through my spine, trembling my ladybug wings. I was feeling happy and secure in a strange way to be in Victor’s briefcase.

Victor took a taxi to the airport which took less than one hour. As soon as we arrived there, he made himself immediately on the way to his gate. Later I found out that he wanted to have enough time to leaf through the illustrated book of Madam Pralle before his flight. He might have refused to have a look at it on the plane because of its generous size, not to disturb his flight neighbor. As he had taken place on one of the chairs close to the gate, I saw on the screen, „Flight to Jerusalem at 10 a.m.," we had almost two hours to enjoy the book.

I climbed out of the hole from my little room upwards to the shoulder of Victor, which succeeded easily compared to the last time. The book drew four eyes at the same time. It was a sample of the pictures which were hanging in the tasty hall of the exhibition.

To my astonishment, Victor opened the book beginning from the last page and he blessed each page with great attention. As we got last page which was actually the first page devoted to the introduction, I saw a black-white picture of Madam Pralle. She was smiling, the color of her hair remained as mysterious, in her seventies she kept still some nuance of youth, and her eyes were revealing the fire of passion in someone who had achieved inner satisfaction like the enlightenment, and she was very attractive and gentle in my eyes of a ladybug and human-sense as well.

Victor closed the book and tried to fit it into his small trolley, which couldn’t succeed, so the book had to be put in its former bag. Then he approached the entrance to the plane, where my ladybug wings began to tremble revealing my fear of an unknown experience. And right there, I lost my consciousness feeling the gravity into the ground corner of my little room in Victor’s briefcase.

A hurt of my wings woke me up from my unconsciousness. My ladybug wings had been pressed by a soft heavy thing. I tried to free myself from the pressure, which couldn’t succeed for the first time and then I saw that my window, the little hole was covered with a dark cloth from outside. I heard a capricious cry of a little child, and after a while I heard a woman’s voice saying,

„Thank you very much, you are very kind!" and followed by Victor’s voice saying,

„You are welcome. He is a brave boy!", obviously I had missed some conversation and under the pressure of that soft, heavy stuff other voices had been damped, not able to be heard in the little space of my room. And then I heard the woman saying,

„No, the baby is a girl," and Victor replied,

„Well, then a nice girl!".

At the same time my window was freed from the soft, heavy bottom of the baby and allowed me sight to the world. I couldn’t recognize anything which would give me some orientation. First of all, I had to make myself, in my human sense, fit to the world, I had been unconscious for several hours and I remembered that I had been in the airport overwhelmed with the fear of flying by plane as a ladybug.

„Well, we are not in the air," I thought and I grasped quickly that my fear was over, the flight was over, and the tension of my nerves was loosened. Victor was outside of the airport Tel Aviv taking the shuttle bus to Jerusalem. I could well imagine this kind of life enriching adventure, because in my human-being I had traveled to Jerusalem and Palestine, to paint my loneliness. The child, who was not a boy, belonged to a woman who tried to get into the bus with a baby carriage and Victor was helping her holding the baby girl.

On the bus Victor took a place at the window. I climbed out of my hole, upwards to the shoulder of Victor over the zip of his loose brown leather jacket, afterwards achieved my target place where I made myself comfortable under the collar of his jacket with a view to the window.

The rhythm of the shuttle bus engine was ruled by timetable, so there was another five minutes left to get started. Victor was looking through the window observing people coming and going, with their different luggages and maps, breathing the same fuel to their lives.

I had a look at my home, the leather briefcase, which I hadn’t observed from above. I had got used to smelling its familiar scent inside, a mixture of vintage leather and laptop battery, which grew in my heart giving me a feeling of being safe. From the outside it was a golden brown soft leather briefcase which had a vintage, but a fine design. With its zip, wide strap and three practical compartments it could still keep up with its younger counterparts and went with both Victor’s brown leather jacket and other elegant outfits perfectly.

The noisy start of the bus engine changed the direction of my sight toward the window. Finally, we got started and I still had no idea what Victor’s intention could be, to come here without knowing exactly where Madam Pralle was, and trying to find her in Jerusalem would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. On the other hand, it was possible that Victor knew something which I had missed during the afternoon conversation in the garden of Catherine and Mateo.

During our journey on the bus, which took almost one hour, I enjoyed through the bus window the view of rocky hills, white little houses on them. This countryside was just unique and its magnet tended to draw not only kindness, but also enemies. The shuttle bus had brought us to the Jerusalem central bus station, and Victor headed for the Jaffa gate, which took fifteen minutes walk. He had already reserved his hotel in Jerusalem which was located close to the Jaffa gate, in the middle of the old city, inside the historic wall.

As Victor put his briefcase on the table of his hotel room, I approached my window hole and made myself familiar with my new environment, by the way, I had been wondering that the way of Victor to place his briefcase was always the same, allowing big horizon from my little window.

It was generously decorated big room, very different from his hotel room in Lisbon, this one had an oriental touch, inspired by arabian culture and colorful ambient was going to accompany Mr. Gray’s stay.

In Jerusalem, there were living Arabians, Jews, Christians shoulder to shoulder with mutual understanding, respect and peace, like colors on a canvas giving different messages by telling one story. Well, for the most part.

While Victor was having shower, I had set the mechanic of my ladybug wings into circulation, flew from the black glass desk to the flat TV screen on the wall, then towards the wall carpet behind the double bed, which was artfully woven with lila, yellow, red blossoms surrounded by green leaves on the light brown ground, passing by the tea set on a silver tablet, which consisted of oriental turquoise jaw golden waves on its surface and six curvy small cups, sharing their colors with the jaw, silver water cooker accompanied with a small turquoise bowl filled with the sorts of teas and coffees to be chosen, and I finally landed on the welcome card on the bed next to a carefully formed bordeaux pillow. From there I saw a big clock on the wall, showing 8 p.m., above the black glass table, leather briefcase on it.

Victor had dressed himself so promptly in the manner of a soldier. While he was combing his dark gray middle short hair, he turned the phone on its loudspeaker and dialed a phone number.

Voice of a man was saying

„Family Bloch, good evening,", Victor answered,

„Good evening, I am Mr. Gray, may I talk to Mrs. Bloch, I mean Paula Bloch,", which was replied,

„Could you call us tomorrow again, today is birthday of my mother, Paula Bloch, I am afraid that she might be busy with our guests".

Victor hesitated for a while, noticing background noise which was revealing party atmosphere and said,

„Excuse me, I am calling due to some urgent affair and may I have an appointment with your mother for tomorrow in her gallery?", the son replied,

„All right Mister, please hold the line, I am going to ask my mother".

There I saw the impressive patience of Victor who was sunk in thought, sitting on the edge of the bed, listening to the background noise. Obviously they left their phone in the kitchen or somewhere in the house, where the phone line could be louder than background noise.

Shortly before Victor’s hair became dried completely, the voice on the other line sounded,

„Hello, Mister, eh, are you there?, after he had heard Victor’s excited reply he went on, „I am sorry for having let you wait so long, I had to find my mother among the guests, which was not a piece of cake. Well, she suggested to meet you at 11 a.m., right after opening, in the ‚Gallery Bloch,‘ goodbye.

Victor took something down on his notice book and took his jacket and briefcase, went out for dinner. The determined way of his walk was betraying that it was not his first time in Jerusalem. All the breathtaking sightseeing, which would attract admirers from all over the world, were not drawing his attention, and his intention to encounter Madam Pralle gave me an impression that the reason would be more than an interview.

After having had some walk along the lively narrow streets of Jerusalem, Victor pulled door of a fast food restaurant. It was one of a typical fast food restaurants with almost similar furniture and outputs, but this one was in a smaller size and located in the middle of the old city. There were tourists, families and children, some youth with its teeny crazy looks, enriching inside of this restaurant like flavor in the kitchen. Victor had taken a menu with some burger and chips, sat at the table close to the window, outside it became almost dark that the window reflected his silhouette. Victor was enjoying his meal bite by bite slowly, at least he had all the time of the world for that evening. I climbed upwards to my place under his collar, this time collar of his blue light woolen jumper. September in Jerusalem was colder than September in Lisbon, the presence of a ladybug would write a history building an unnatural exception.

I turned my head in the direction where a voice of an elderly woman came from, saying,

„Oh, you can say that again, years ago, she had had a mini size period where she had been suffering from anorexia, which I had been terribly worried about, and now she is food-addict, which make me worry about, too. But, I cannot tell her anything which would hurt her, I love her so much and for this kind of thing I would rather let the nature take its course, some time she will turn back to normal." The other woman with short chestnut brown hair who was wearing yellow woolen dress, replied,

„People say that appearance is nothing, which is the worst porky-pie ever. In this corner of the world, it is unusual being in that much volume, but in America she would be happy to count herself to the normal size. You should send her to my place in America, she would love it." Then I saw an overweight girl coming, despite her overweight, she had a pretty face and was dressed stylish possessing a kind of grace which made her attractive on the whole size. She was carrying tablet four double burgers and a big drink on it and she took place at the table where the two women were sitting, one of them seemed to be her mother, who had already began to enjoy her meal. In the presence of the girl, the two women were looking very thin, like two swallows joined a penguin.

The other woman turned to the girl,

„My dear, what would you like to have as a present for your eighteenth birthday?", the girl replied,

„Oh, aunt, I don’t need anything, just come tomorrow night to the party, I will be happy to see all together after so many years of being apart, but frankly said, it will be a great present from your part, if you won’t call me in front of all my friends „my sweet muffin, as you used to call me!, which was replied with a hearty wink of her aunt.

I turned back to my friend who had already finished his meal and was studying the city map, his way to the „Gallery Bloch". I made myself on the way downwards to the leather briefcase, to my home, and I was happy to see that Victor had left the golden metal zip open, so thank goodness failed an effort to fit myself into the window hole of my little room in front compartment.

A few minutes later, my friend stood up and pushed the door of the fast food restaurant, facing the fresh wind of September in the street. Half an hour later, I found myself in my leather home on the black glass table in the hotel room. First time in my ladybug being, I felt tired and fell asleep in a human way. Victor put an end to the long day too, and went to bed. That night the room was blessed with great symphony coming from his nose.

Next morning wake up call woke us at 8 a.m., Victor stood up and made himself ready for that day full of hope, mystery as well. He had chosen gray suit over a white shirt, had left his tie in the cupboard, looked elegant and handsome as always. Outside sun was shining, making golden autumn day intensified by yellow leaves of trees. On the street it was not so crowded as in the afternoon, people were crossing their ways in a hurry with great concentration on one of the days of their limited lives.

Victor had a breakfast in a small café close to the Jaffa gate, he seemed to dislike kosher which was only offer at the breakfast in his hotel. After the breakfast he had enough time till his appointment with Mrs. Bloch. So, he had decided to kill the time by passing by some tourist attractions. He walked along the Arabian part of the old city, passing by narrow streets between the souks with its colorful flavors in big sacks rowing side by side alluring oriental sweets, and headed for the Via Dolorosa, visited St. Anna Church, left the remains of a roman pool with its nostalgia unvisited behind and passed through the Lions’ gate walked along to the cemetery, ascended upwards the hill. And up there he enjoyed the wonderful panoramic view over the old city of Jerusalem under the morning sunshine. The hunger of his eyes had not been saturated as he set himself on the way to his appointment.

Passing by the main street of the modern part of Jerusalem, he bought for Paula Bloch a bunch of flowers, colorful combination of red, rose, lila, blue, green, as if they were picked in the garden of Eden. As he arrived entrance of the gallery, a staff of the gallery was watering rose pink blossomed bushes outside of the building which was a medium sized tastefully designed light blue house located in the modern part of Jerusalem.

„Good morning, Sir, can I help you?", the dark skinned staff, who could be one of the Rodin’s creatures, asked Victor who replied with a question,

„Good morning, is Mrs. Bloch there?".

„Yes, please welcome to the gallery, Mrs. Bloch has just arrived".

Victor entered the gallery looking around with astonishment, he stood close to the entrance to have a look at the gallery hall. Comparing to the exhibition of Madam Pralle in Lisbon, the hall was small, but it was built in a very fine art, as if it was proving the beauty of simplicity and colorful oil paintings were hanging on the wall side by side in different sizes, shining electric lights on each of them, adding nuance to the simplicity. A gracious, elegant woman about eighty years old, her pale gray hair bound behind her head and deep wrinkles on her relaxed, friendly face with a nice tan, in elegant gray woolen dress, long rose stone necklace around her shoulder, was looking at Victor from the other corner of the gallery hall. Victor discovered her presence and smiled back. The woman approached Victor, saying,

„Good morning, Gentleman, you must be Mr. Gray, as my son informed me yesterday. By the way, I am Mrs. Bloch. Welcome to our gallery! I am sorry about yesterday not being able to answer your call personally, my eightieth birthday attracted a lot of people, also from abroad, it was impossible to leave them on their own".

„Good morning, Madam, yes, I am Victor Gray, it is a great pleasure to meet you! This is for you, a happy belated birthday!" and Victor stretched toward her the bunch of flower.

Paula Bloch was very happy about both the bunch of flowers and its handsome deliverer, saying,

„Wonderful pick, thank you very much, you make my day!", and she hinted at the white leather couch in the corner of the gallery hall,

„Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?"

„No, thanks," replied Victor and took place on the white couch sunk in its softness.

Paula Bloch gave the bunch of flowers to a staff who brought the flowers later in a big glass vase and put on the low marble table in front of the couch. Same time Mrs. Bloch took place on the opposite couch, still smiling gently, she was very agile in her eighties. She turned to Victor,

„Which masterpiece are you interested in? Have you had a look at our latest offer?", to which Victor replied,

„No, Madam, I am deeply impressed by your gallery, but my purpose of visit is of different matter."

Paula Bloch stayed relaxed in a manner of the women who had had to face a lot during the journey of her long life. She asked calmly,

„What is your affair which I could be helpful for, my dear?"

„Well, I am a journalist from America. Two days ago I visited the last lifetime exhibition by Madam Pralle in Lisbon, where I hoped to encounter her for an interview and unfortunately our ways hadn’t crossed each other. Thank some of her friends in Lisbon, whom I had encountered in a mysterious way, I could be informed that she had flown to your birthday party. And that is why I am here."

Mrs. Bloch’s smile became disappeared, but her kindness remained on her face, her with silver gray eyeshadow rounded dark eyes were fixed at Victor. She hesitated to tell him something and was looking at Victor thoroughly, thinking about, if she was going to count herself to the great betrayers in the history having told about her friend to a stranger. And she followed her intuition, she was trusting in Victor. During all these years of her lifetime, her eyes were not only experienced to acknowledge a masterpiece, but also human beings.

Victor, as a man with an enriched past, as well, had a great understanding that only a fine bound by loyalty keeps a friendship all life long. He also hesitated to say something to Mrs. Bloch. After some seconds, which should not be measured by the mechanic of the clock giving the human kind the same measurement of time, Paula Bloch broke the silence,

„Well, my dear, I am sorry not being able to fulfill your expectation, Madam Pralle, also Bianca Pralle, has not come here. Then she continued, „She was invited to my birthday party, and after the opening of her last lifetime exhibition in Lisbon, on her way to Jerusalem, she had a stopover in Munich, where she called me from the airport informing that she was not able to come to my party. Her present for my birthday was delivered yesterday by express post, an illustrated book of her pictures, which were all her choice among her thousands of photographs and made me cry my eyes out all afternoon, there was one of my photos and so many touching memories.

I remembered that some of the pictures had been taken in Jerusalem, but couldn’t tell which one of them was the picture of Paula Bloch, if she was in that picture younger or fatter. The frank way of Paula Bloch made Victor courageous lightening the dark tunnel of his hope, and Victor asked her, if Bianca Pralle had told her the reason for the break of her journey.

„Well, Paula Bloch continued, „she has had some pain in her stomach for a few years, which she doesn’t like to talk about, she claimed that it was nothing serious, every time when the pain acts up, she had to go to the doctor in Munich, she trusts in german doctors exclusively. She told me not to be worried. Of course, I am worried about her waiting for her call.

Victor was happy to get to know about Bianca Pralle, at least her whereabouts, but on the other hand he was deeply worried about her health condition. Bianca Pralle was seventy-seven years old.

„Is she now in Munich?" asked Victor, which was replied,

„I suppose yes, by the way, Bianca has residents, both in Munich and Paris. But, I cannot tell how long she would be staying in Munich, if she was going to continue her journey to Jerusalem."

„Do you think, it would be a good idea, to wait her in front of her apartment, to have a chance to encounter her?" which sounded childish in a voice of a man in his fifties and Victor turned red.

Paula Bloch got the joke perfectly and answered him with loud laughter,

„Oh, it is sweet of you, then you are going to spend the rest of your life in front of her apartment door! Not to mention how discreet she keeps her privacy, it is impossible to catch her. She is always on the way around the globe making it smaller, like a hamster on the wheel, visiting her friends all over the world or eternizing somewhere beauty of a moment on her photographs, surrounded by her admirers."

Victor was wondering the trust of this wonderful woman in him, I could tell it by the pupil of his eyes, by the way, at that moment I was sitting on the shoulder of Paula Bloch, exactly said, between two rose stones of her necklace, noticing everything, what the two people’s attention were drawn to, which made the pictures on the wall jealous of.

Victor broke the next silence which took shorter than the first one, saying,

„I am a journalist as you know, but it has been my sideline, my occupation consists mainly of researches in the field of the evolution of human-being, especially in consideration of their environment. I have been highly attracted to the fact that evolution has made monkeys into human beings, and I have been asking myself, if there existed any further level of evolution, which transform human-beings into the next step of development, of course I don’t await that the evolution would make human-birds out of us. But a kind of level, I mean, and Victor went on, „I am going to quit my job as a journalist after having had an interview with Bianca Pralle, which has been my dream, that is why I risked all my journey tracing Bianca Pralle.

During their conversation, I was so excited that my ladybug wings began to tremble and I had to fly, I was flying with so much lightness, between Madam Bloch and Monsieur Gray.

I glanced at Paula Bloch, her eyes were gleaming of the bonfire expressing astonishment and curiosity, fixed at Victor. She said,

„My dear, if that is your purpose, I would like to help you, It is a long story which I am going to tell you about, and the gallery is not the right atmosphere for nice souvenirs, let us go to my place, and she added, „I come here only on special occasions, the gallery is run by my children. Have you got other affairs for today to be dealt with?

Bleeding with curiosity, Victor was taken aback under the spell of that charming wise woman, and said,

„No, Madam, I am here only because of Madam Pralle. I am eager to see your nice souvenirs."

Paula Bloch stood up, saying,

„Great, please wait for me here, I will be soon back. Cleo, our caretaker is driving us to my place."

At that moment, I, a ladybug with human sense, had some problem to bring my emotion under control. My ladybug wings were circulating out of my power, I was flying not able to stop my round trip behind the white couch. I needed to go back to my leather briefcase home, as soon as possible, otherwise I would miss Victor and souvenirs of Paula Bloch.

I tried to concentrate on my ladybug being, and overkilled my human sense, put an end to my emotion, which succeeded finally. As Victor stood