The chunk 107 The message -567-

Ahmed had learned about Peppino Gagliardi in Japan because among older Japanese people his work was very popular in the seventies and he fell in love with the songs. Consciously or not, he associated the singer's voice with his own. Indeed, their voices were like the voices of two brothers, only Peppino Gagliardi's hoarseness was refined by Italian pronunciation. Of course, it was not only the voice of the master of the Neapolitan song that was wonderful. Ahmed found that outwardly he was similar to the singer: a brooding look, a prominent nose, curly hair, the habit of wrinkling his forehead. Lyrical, melodic, soft songs tuned into a romantic mood. The dream of great love, the love of a lifetime, never left Ahmed between his bright peaks of love.

Safebook of
Ahmed ****ni
06 July at 23:43 ·
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"Un Amore Grande", by Peppino Gagliardi...
A bit of gentleness in a world of brutes ..
Un peu de douceur dans un monde de brutes ..
Some Romance!!
;; Big Love ", by Peppino Gagliardi...
A bit of gentleness in a world of brutes ..
A little sweetness in a world of bullies..

The message -259-
05/07/2020
Hello,  Ahmed.
My friend who I hadn't seen for two years invited me to her house. Yesterday, as always on weekends, I had a short day, so I agreed to visit her. We both had Birthdays at the end of last month so I bought a cake and she made a pie.
She talks a lot, I cannot be like that. I mostly remain silent with people like her usually. She is a nurse in a child's clinic now. She changed many different jobs in her life. She started as an accountant. She was earning so much that her husband told her he didn't want his wife to have a wage bigger than his, so she left the job and the area. Then she was an insurance agent, very successful again. And then she went to study again. Now she looks old, tired, ill, fat, but her beauty is still with her. She is a Tartar. Tatars are Muslims, as you might know, but their family is not very religious. Most people in Russia are not believers but remain in a state of some kind of religious superstitions in different forms and measures of intensity that do not even depend on nationality or religion.
She was showing me photos of her familiar people. I looked at those old people whom I've never seen and I realized that I have not any circle of such people I would meet more or less regularly. I couldn't count myself among these people. I feel I am 25. I am not like them. All my colleagues and bosses were much younger than me, my teachers were younger or behaved as young people. I live in another world. What is the world like? I must think about what the difference is. I cannot explain it right now.

I stayed with her for an hour. Then I decided to come home walking due to the weather being fine and there were no insects and I missed the places where I was walking several years ago to the meetings with our teachers in Chinese, English, Arabic, and Spanish...I miss all of them and of our partners in learning and still I am grateful to them all.
I walked relaxed thinking about the day that went away. I raised my eyes and saw my, as you were nice to call him, partner's eyes. He stood as if he was struck, startled by something, with his mouth open, and looked at me. I quickly came to him.
"Hi! You look very nice," I said merrily. Indeed, he looked pleasant, as usual. I still find him handsome despite the fact that he is 54 now and he is one meter sixty in height.
— "Hi," he replied, being kicked back to his mind, "you too."
I explained to him where I had been. I am sure it occurred to him that I went from my nonexistent lover. He forgot I have short days on weekends and thought I should be at work at that moment. He returned home to make a boiler: it is time in Tyumen when they do repair work and block some areas of the city's hot water supply. So, he went to a shop to buy glue. The first minute he was a bit aggressive in his behavior, but I melted his ice. We came home together and he spent the night in the guest room next to my daughter's room.
This morning he came into my room and started asking me about whether I have a lover or not, again..our daughter came to us as soon as he sat on my bed...
It all always is so dull...I agree with you.

The message - 260-
Hello Ahmed,
I keep the photograph of you where you were having your training by a sea placed on my working PC screen as an example of absolute happiness a man can experience. I love your happy face there, absolutely, without any doubts. You look like you were playing like a kid there. It is a pleasure to look at you in the photo. If you were able to be so relaxed and enjoy life, I can too, each time I tell myself, for encouragement. Thank you, dear. Be still shining to your people. Be happy everywhere at all times! My short poem: as that old Japanese man often writes to me underneath his longer than just "have a nice day" daily messages. Goodbye.

The message - 261-
11/07/21
Hello Ahmed,
I don't have customers and orders today and I have time to write to you yet. Yesterday I was on your Safebook page. Thank you for sharing. Always I feel sad after reading that. I was crying and now I am not able to call a reason, but at that moment I definitely had one.

I started talking to you about my family and my ancestors and sent you the audio. It forces me to think about my own small family I had till last time. I now understand more why we are separated. I am very grateful to my partner, my ex-husband, for living with him. It is not true that I was not happy and I did not love him. I still love him. But I never was suitable for him, he never was suitable for me. He always was very caring about me and our daughter despite being sometimes rude and always deaf to our souls. We also were selfish every time. He always was busy with how to feed and support us, nothing more. And I was busy with my issues. Each of us lived his life together, but our souls wandered somewhere freely, hardly ever touching one other.
Even though I've never been to his homeland, I know his country. I know and love some examples of its traditional and modern music, art, food, and history. I tried to learn his language, I know his relatives. Azerbaijan, I expect, is similar to Algeria in many aspects...
I wasn't a good wife. I was neither caring nor loving. I lived in my small world and still live in my imagination, not in the real great world. What still holds him with me and why he wants to be with me I don't want to think. It is not important. I want him to find a good fit woman. He is strong, healthy, active, and smart. I want him to get freedom because he always felt like he was living in jail with us in the flat. He wants his own house, garden, in his country. Interesting that I also love gardens and land as a whole. I regret I didn't buy a big piece of land when I had the money for it...but we have so different views on everything I am sure we have straight controversial visions of the garden and the house. I want him to be independent and self-confident again because I feel my guilt in the situation, in his current state. I am much more clever him, I was a kind of snob despite that I am so stupid, so terrific idiot, I hate myself because of that only one. In short, I want to let him go. It is my gift to him for all his goodness. And when I tell him all of that I see in his eyes anticipation of a better life. I was very lucky I met him at that time...despite all my relatives thinking that our union was nothing but horrible misalliance. Okay, here I am going to stay. Dixi.

The message - 262-
Hello Ahmed,
To understand Japan...I may be told this word, I am wrong...I had told you in one of my audios I cannot think. All I write is pure perception, nothing more. I try to express in words all my feelings and expectations and guess those also are nothing but based on my perception of things. And each knows that feelings are not constant things. My thoughts, I am sorry, are like a river and waters, and strims inside it. They will never be strong or straight, clear or transparent. I think you did not get yet what my conception is.  But it will become understandable very soon.
Thank you you are so tolerant, but sharp and poisonous, to my eyeliner I write my confusing story with. I will not neglect my writing.
We cannot understand many things, but we are able to write, sing, draw, or say so that it is possible to feel the truth. So I write my 1000 chunks because I am not able to see the whole  picture. I should collect a lot to be able to recognize the true corn. I make garbage, a lot of garbage that seems insane yet. I would like to say to you: "Thank you, you are really honest and open now, I love you, bro!"

О Пеппино Гальярди Ахмед узнал в Японии, потому что у пожилых японцев его творчество было очень популярно в семидесятых, и полюбил. Сознательно или нет, он ассоциировал голос певца со своим собственным. Действительно, голоса были похожи как голоса братьев, только хрипотца Пеппино Гальярди была по-итальянски утончённой. Конечно, не только голос был замечательным у мастера неаполитанской песни. Ахмед находил, что и внешне похож на певца: задумчивый взгляд, выдающийся нос, вьющиеся волосы, привычка морщить лоб. Лиричные, мелодичные, мягкие песни настраивали на романтическое настроение. Мечта о большой любви, любви всей жизни, не оставляла Ахмеда никогда между его яркими пиками влюбленностей.
ПЕРЕВОД:
О, любовь большая,
словно мир, большая!
Ты вселила в мою душу прелесть утра,
а в глаза мои – улыбку…
Но сегодня той улыбки больше нет.

Ты была огромной,
даже больше мира.
Но ушла в забвенье, как мгновенье жизни,
и печаль моя исчезла,
как рожденье на рассвете,
дня от ночи.

Прежде была – ты!
Но отныне – только ночи ожиданий
и стихов, во сне пришедших, лепетанье.
Подушку в изголовье – обнимаю…
Словно рядом ты…