Day 86. Bach

You never really get a good insight into the characters in the movie. Most of the time you don't really see their full bodies either. They are awkwardly cut off in the middle, a part of the head is missing, another body is in the way. They seem to be stuck. Stuck in their lives. Stuck in this beautiful movie. Ida. Black and white, the old 3:4 format, wonderful photography.
Ida is about to take the vows to become a nun, she is a novice, she grew  up in the monastery. Before she takes the big step, she gets a chance to see real life. To search for her roots. She meets her aunt, they go on a roadtrip looking for her parents graves. Ida didn't know that her parents were Jews, killed in the war. She doesn't say much, Ida. Her eyes are big. Only after her aunt dies unexpectedly she starts tasting. Cigarettes, jazz music, alcohol, sex. A bit cliché, but it doesn't matter. After she has tried everything, she returns. Apparently without hesitation. She doesn't take the bus and it is a long way. She walks, her suitcase in her hand. It is the only time you hear music in the movie which isn't there in a natural way. Until then the music always came out of radios, record players, real instruments. When she has taken her decision, when she walks, the music surrounds her. Bach.

Afterwards I talk to the man who invited me to the movie. He is in charge of the cinema. He sells the tickets, decides on the program, makes the popcorn, does the administration, maybe cleans as well, I am not sure. He has been doing it for 12 years now, he loves it and he does it well, there is a very nice, small program for a city with only a few thousand inhabitants. Sometimes he wonders if there isn't something else he should do though. The eternal question of staying and leaving.

We drink beer and talk while other people watch the second movie and afterwards he shows me the historical cafe from the beginning of the former century, a two minute walk from the cinema. We talk more, he asks many questions, new questions, not the ones I got so used to. But we also talk about how valuable it is to find new answers  for the old questions.

I tell him the end of the movie struck me because I also like to walk with Bach. At some point in my walk I needed some Bach on the way and I had Glenn Gould's Goldberg Variations emailed to me because for some reason there was no Bach in my iPod. 

We talk until the cafe closes. We say goodbye three times to make sure we are really leaving. I take my pink bike and find my way in the dark. Along the river in the wrong direction first, then cross the bridge and along the lonely road. It is so dark I can hardly see the difference between the water and the road. My bike doesn't have a light or maybe it does but I prefer the darkness.The road is slightly darker than the Danube so I stay on the black.

The next morning, this morning, I go for breakfast. Usually there is the radio in the background, playing a variation of classical music. Now it is a Cd. Glenn Gould playing Bach. 

I eat my breakfast. I listen. Afterwards I sit on my balcony for the last time and look at the spot where the Danube makes a bend and disappears out of sight. I pack. I leave. I walk. There is no music. But there is the sound of the river.

Today's story is for Glenn Hall

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