An Alpine Painter s shelter home small show

Mountain chalet hermit's retreat in the Alpine mountains away from the highway. In the mid-thirties of the last century, the middle-aged expressionist Painter Hegel spent his holidays here, Frau Marta, a local resident from a neighboring farm, helped him with the household. Few people visit the hermit, sometimes tourists come to buy farm cheese, which Frau Marta offers. The Painter paints paintings, sometimes remembers the days gone by. Suddenly, a familiar actress Aristide visits him, now she lives abroad, came to Europe for a short time with her niece and a young musician, a short meeting awakened a whole swarm of nostalgic memories.

THE ARTIST'S STUDIO.
A spacious workshop with a view of the mountain slopes, wide doors open onto a spacious veranda with tables and benches, and an advertisement for the sale of farm cheese on the wall. In the workshop, there are paintings on the walls and on the floor, and behind the huge window there is a majestic view of the Alpine mountains. An elderly Painter in a bathrobe with a brush with calloused fingers stands by the window, gazing out at the mountain landscape. From time to time, he looked up from his contemplation, went to the easel and touched the canvas with a brush. Outside the window, the sounds of an approaching car can be heard, the maid Martha (a local resident from a neighboring farm), helping with the housework, announces the arrival of guests, followed by an old acquaintance of the actress, with her niece and a young musician. An elegant lady entered, filling the workshop with the scent of Parisian perfumes. Aristide, a famous actress, in a flirty hat and with a modest bouquet in her hands. She has two young companions with her: her niece and her musician friend. "Mr. Hegel," said the lady with a radiant smile, "this is my niece Dolly and her friend Max, who are making music together. They are eager to see your masterpieces!" The Painter gallantly kissed the lady's hand. "Aristide! Incredible, are you on tour? Or a movie shoot?" "No, my dear, I was just visiting Europe, and I decided to visit your... sanctuary for a couple of hours." He touched her hand with his lips again. "It's easy to say 'passing through,' but we've made an incredible detour!" The Painter, a little embarrassed by the bohemian mess, greeted the young people. "Please come to the opening day! Coffee?" The actress, as the hostess, looked around the workshop. "Everything is the same here...", she sighed nostalgically, looking
"How are you, Hegel?"–"There have been better times… But this visit is a true highlight of the season!" - And you are in bloom!, how is your spouse? The Painter asked, offering a comfortable chair. - Strangely enough, my... which is the account, my husband lives happily. The old miser enjoys life, but we communicate well with him, sometimes keeping our distance. The director does not give birth to a new picture, but for me, creative simplicity is just a green longing, so I gave up on Europe, sometimes I have to appear in some places before they completely forget, you learn about creative plans from the newspapers, they know better than us. Where are those hungry paparazzi who used to chase us on the islands? They were lazy, indifferent to real art. Have many excursions bothered to visit your genius workshop, my forgotten sculptor? Judging by the desolation around, it's sparsely populated. There are no glossy articles, queues for the opening day… The maid brought toasts, butter, local cheese, biscuits and sweets, and an aperitif on a tray of coffee, and the artist ordered the driver to be taken care of. The driver and the maid are sitting on the veranda, at a table, he is offered coffee and sandwiches, they are talking and looking at paintings. The young people, left to themselves, arranged a tour, moving from painting to painting, picking up canvases from the floor, exchanging jokes and quiet laughter. Soft music is coming from an old radio.
Painter - You know that I don't like the hustle and bustle of the capital, and exhibitions are expensive. Come and ski with young people in winter. The lady and the Painter are having a conversation, as if restoring fragments of old memories. While she is moving around the studio, he tries to put her in a chair for posing, took out a blank canvas and hurriedly paints a portrait. While the Painter is talking to the actress, the young people are looking at the paintings and commenting on them.

A car of tourists, a family of tourists, drove up. No longer young parents, two twin boys and an older sister with pigtails.  Frau Marta offered them homemade cheese from the farm and showed the children papier mache masks. Children liked the masks: the lady, the robber, the donkey, the Chinese dummy, the wolf, little red riding hood and others. Children try on masks, changing them, running around the workshop, looking at paintings, participating in dances to music, they began to put masks on their parents and others, there is confusion, talking to her husband, the tourist continued the conversation with the taxi driver, and Frau Marta with the Tourist, then the taxi driver talked to the Tourists, sometimes the children pull adults to dance to Sometimes adults continue to dance with each other while the children run away, changing partners under masks.

 A spacious workshop with a view of the mountain slopes, wide doors open onto a spacious veranda with tables and benches, and an advertisement for the sale of farm cheese on the wall.  In the workshop, there are paintings on the walls and on the floor, and behind the huge window there is a majestic view of the Alpine mountains. 
An elderly artist in a bathrobe with a brush with calloused fingers stands by the window, gazing out at the mountain landscape. From time to time, he looked up from his contemplation, went to the easel and touched the canvas with a brush. Outside the window, the sounds of an approaching car can be heard, the maid Martha (a local resident from a neighboring farm), helping with the housework, announces the arrival of guests, followed by an old acquaintance of the actress, with her niece and a young musician.
An elegant lady entered, filling the workshop with the scent of Parisian perfumes. Aristide, a famous actress, in a flirty hat and with a modest bouquet in her hands.  She has two young companions with her: her niece and her musician friend.
 "Mr. Hegel," said the lady with a radiant smile, "this is my niece Dolly and her friend Max, who are making music together. They are eager to see your masterpieces!"
 A car of tourists, a family of tourists arrived. No longer young parents, two twin boys and an older sister with pigtails.  Frau Marta offered them homemade cheese from the farm and showed the children papier mache masks. Children liked the masks: the lady, the robber, the donkey, the Chinese dummy, the wolf, little red riding hood and others. The children try on masks, change them, run around the workshop, look at paintings, participate in dancing to music, they began to put masks on their parents and others, there is confusion, talking with her husband, the tourist continued the conversation with the taxi driver, and Frau Marta with the Tourist, then the taxi driver talked with the Tourists.

FLOWER GARDEN
Dolly.  The garden is intoxicated with the scent of lilies, the flowers are perched on tall stalks, and the lace of prickly horsetail is fluttering nearby.  Dahlias are ablaze, thick among the greenery, and the color of the geranium is bright with curled foliage, and the phlox are perched next to each other. They wave their heads with a curly chignon. The family will spread the branches of the gladiolus, and vanilla buds on the waffle cones in the wind. On the stage, the peony is a proud baron roundhead, bloomed, surprised with his charm. Nasturtiums spread out, entwining everything around, and petunias spread stories to nooks and crannies.   I remember our meeting in the summer garden, He covered the garden with his patchwork quilt, spread the folds in a cheerful pattern.

Max.  On the stage, the peony is a proud baron roundhead, bloomed, surprised with his charm.

Dolly.  I remember our meeting in the summer garden,  He covered the garden with his patchwork quilt, spread the folds in a cheerful pattern.  May colored the job report card with promises. On the colorful robe, snow-white petals broke through the greenery of the foliage, buds opened, through the green shadows, delicate petals sat right on her lap.  And the rosy-cheeked boy with a basket of strawberries,  Knocking on the door at dawn, in the summer garden

Actress.  The last leaves are falling in our garden, the late apples have already been picked, and only one has caught on high, delighting with its red side among the bare branches. Wonderful birds flew in on a cold morning. We joyfully welcomed the wonderful fruit. They sat down on the branches, admiring their appearance, taking a break from the road, They rose gracefully into the air and continued on their way, shouting.  Where they spend the cold season far away, remembering their native groves and forests. In the evenings, around the fire, we remembered the guests of the random November about this meeting., In spring, the branches are painted pink, as if wonderful birds have sent greetings.

THE TOWN OF ANCIENT STREETS
 Max.  My cubicle is hidden in the maze of old streets, hidden from the hustle and bustle. I look at the world through a narrow open window. From here, I look at the line of people on the street, strange cars. The branches, like gnarled fingers with long arms, are illuminated by evening lanterns on the black canvas of the night, their swaying shadows look like rare passers-by.
Architectural paintings of the city, highway bridges and sidewalks, towering Cathedral — all this is hidden in the folds of a patchwork quilt woven from light and shadows from houses and branches, I will collect a pile of sketches by evening.
Your portrait with your hair fluttering in the wind, An autumn city, wrapped in a pile of fallen leaves, The roofs are covered with red branches, frowning in anticipation of the winter cold, but for now the rains have come. And we walk through puddles under an umbrella without noticing it.

Dolly.  Architectural paintings of the city, highway bridges and sidewalks, towering Cathedral — all this is hidden in the folds of a blanket woven from light and shadows from houses and branches, I will collect a pile of sketches by the evening.

Max.  An autumn city, wrapped in a pile of fallen leaves, the roofs are closed the branches are red, frowning in anticipation of the winter cold, but for now the rains have come. And we walk through puddles under an umbrella without noticing it.

Frau Marta.  And every morning the flower garden never ceases to amaze with the birth of new flowers. That the sun and flowers are drawn to the light — they have a special account among themselves, the hot rays awaken the curly beauty of stems and flowers. Uncover treasures for a new day.

Max.  Steeplejack. On the sand paper, the figure above the roof climbs to the top of the hand. He's holding onto a cloud and his arms are reaching out everything is higher. And the radio antennas on the roof of the stairs end, the trees below, the sun above the river. Our knees are shaking, but he doesn't care. The horizon has spread, the grove is far away, the birds are surprised, rushing in droves. The viewer seems to be dizzy, and even the arches of the far bridge are visible.
 The curly pattern of trees is falling off, the forest and hills behind the fence have become visible.  A summer house made of thin planks, blown through by a light autumn breeze, a path and bridges leading to a quiet river.

The actress.  Remember. A gloomy day when the city is painted in gray tones, And the street is shivering, from the prickly wind, as if in cold dreams, A girl in a raincoat and boots was walking along the sidewalk, With a doll in a stroller under a red blanket Woven from children's kindness and care.  And the sight of her warmed passersby with her warmth.
Squares of satchels, folders, and fairy tales were scattered on the path. This pile of knowledge, dreams and worries is carried by children's feet. But wherever these children's people lead, everyone has time to notice their rapid progress.  
There are curious eyes in the neighborhood. And next to it, the sails of the circus tent soared skyward. Colorful flags fluttered in the wind,  like a flock of birds from overseas, they beckoned inside under a linen dome. And the child's soul rushed there, into an unknown and desired unprecedented world.

THE CIRCUS HAS ARRIVED IN THE TOWN
The Painter.  At dawn, they went out with the dog through the courtyards to the edge of the wasteland, the thistles bristled with thorns, and the grass withered from the heat, beaded with dew.  The sails of the circus tent soared skyward. Colorful flags like a flock of overseas birds. They fluttered in the wind, but sensing predators nearby, our dachshund ruffled up and growled slightly. Then my son and I came to the ticket counter, and the barker was trilling with announcements.  A clown in huge yellow trousers, with a tall red bowler hat on his head,   A fancy boat, ready for a cruise. Moire Green Vest,  From the minstrel's shoulder, he breathed longing for unknown roads, His face was the color of ripe duchess, and he wore orange-rimmed glasses. The clown figure sparkles with jokes, luring passersby, promising a surprise. the piebald horse was sorting through its hooves, anticipating its finest hour, the young rider sits proudly, boldly controls the horse. At the top, a ballerina in tights and a tutu was floating in a pink cloud.  She defied gravity by doing somersaults, twisting in the splits, on a tightrope. Wow! It takes your breath away even for seasoned viewers!

Dolly.  The circus has returned to the town, there is excitement on the square Colorful poster, don't miss the performance.  The illusionist waved a flag, surprises the audience with magic tricks, Dishes, objects, ladders, Christmas trees, bouquets of roses appear as if out of nowhere. And then, as if they melt away, they disappear into nowhere at once.  They keep their secrets from us. Secret passages deftly cover their tracks, it is unlikely that you guessed their tricks. Behind the screens, in the corner, lurked a figure that was not expected to appear in the finale.

Actress.  Secret passages deftly cover their tracks, it is unlikely that you guessed their tricks.  Portrait in a brown square, neon profile flashes,  on his head is a thick yellow hairdo with two coals of cunning eyes and a scarlet mouth. behind the screens, in the corner, lurked a figure that was not expected to appear in the finale.

Painter. Yes, magic tricks are not an easy product, on the street such an illusionist will confuse his head with passes, everything is in surprise, and sometimes there is only a zilch in his pocket in the finale.

Max. A tightrope walker balances on a rope. He put aside all extraneous thoughts  He doesn't look at anyone or hear anyone, but like a magnet, only one cute image of himself helps him not to get off the track like this.
The Painter. There is an old Buffoon on the sawdust of the arena, his words are greeted by the audience with a grin.  The elder wore a red cap, a yellow caftan with a tight belt, trousers, well-made shoes, and his hands were spread wide with a mallet. Today, the elder has three heads with full beards, and a tall cap with golden bells crowns his head.  The fool shares his wisdom with friends.   The audience meets the fool's words in different ways: Yesterday they hardly noticed, they laughed at them, Today they just shrug their shoulders in surprise, and tomorrow they nod their heads in agreement. Yesterday, only carefree laughter is heard, Today – thoughts are turning green shoots. And tomorrow – the understanding that is quietly maturing in my head. Words change the underlying course of events. And it's a step from laughter to great discoveries.

Max.  Balance is Capriccio in the name of beauty. An Equilibrist performs on a shaky board, with a ball on a bowler hat and a violin in his hand. It's a fragile effort to hold the ball and play music, but this pyramid is supported by only one violin note. The ventriloquist is on the dock, fooling the audience, pulling out different voices from the depths of his gut, like a whole horde of onlookers, making them laugh and frighten. And someone believes these stories and looks around cautiously.

Dolly. The clowns deftly somersaulted, and then they laughed for a long time, they repeated the joke again, but we forgot to record it. The clowns promised us a surprise, and when the box was unpacked, they only saw the dog, and where did they put two pounds of treats. And the hungry dog was glad to have a piece of cookies.

Jugglers grab maces, try to keep track! He takes two pairs of clubs with one hand and a pair with the other, throws them up, and look, and three pairs are already above his head.  And you can never guess how many each one has. Acrobats in shiny tights are building a tower to the sky, their azure shadows on either side of the floodlights are playing.  The tower collapses without regret, crumbling into colored balls, the audience is full of laughter and surprise.

Max. Athletes are pushing weights like fluff here, their Roman profiles are like marble statues for a lady on a balcony, athletes are ready to support a heavy cornice at a height.

Dolly. Puppets with a doll's face, With red cheeks, with curls from under the hat, In a beige blouse with wooden arms and legs. They are waiting for their participation in the performance. How will the strings be pulled again, That's how we perform on stage again. There are more puppets in the other box, in the shadows. The masks are slightly agitated, discussing future roles. The toy in the box is disassembled into parts, But as long as someone collects it. On the square. Traveling Marionette Theater I dropped anchor in the courtyard, the play will be shown to the children. The posters promise fun entertainment, The two wagons were closed and the screen was stretched. The dolls shine with their talents on stage. The artists sing and flutter, they try very hard. And the audience is happy, smiling. They sing along to the verse behind the polka, clap their hands.

MOUNTAIN LUXURY HOTEL
Frau Marta. There are different people in our hotel, you can't keep track of them all.  The boy with the smart guy's face from the mosaic panel  аnd although there are a lot of different colors on the palette, our child prodigy retains his blue face in purple tones, the figure of a courier boy is on a rug woven from narrow stripes grandma will weave a rug for him as a new thing, because he carries a stack of important packages in his bag. And he runs around the whole town in a day.

Actress. Our singer (contralto)  The opera Diva shines in the comic opera, spectacular and majestic, the eyes under the mask are like stars in the night,  curly curls, a feathered hat, a narrow waist, delicate breasts, ruffles on her skirt, it's nice to look at her and listen to her.  Next to him is a court singer dressed as a Donkey, although he is clumsy, but still a baritone, He is friendly and polite always, very pleased with his role, and often accompanies our Diva.  Don't ignore their performances to raise your mood, it's not often in the town that such masters are on stage.

The rehearsal of the play. It's not easy without a director, even though every moment is captured by marks on the tracks of the stage.   for the actors of the production. The trio froze at the wings of the stage. The hero is going to reveal his own vision. The scenery is a brown and red cave opening. Three bowls and props, the facets of a new interpretation, the key to understanding the narrative, but the situation is heating up, It's hard to agree when everyone has their own interpretation of the fragment.

Max. Soloist from the tour of the Oriental theater, with a cappuccino face, with pursed lips,  in a silk robe, a brown headdress, with hypnotically deep eyes, with hidden oriental wisdom and brilliance, try to unravel the Chinese box. Everything suits him in this hotel, Complains about the lack of chopsticks at lunch.  But he loves black coffee at dawn. (And he's waiting for an important dispatch by mail from the emperor.)

Actress. The poster features a portrait of a mezzo-soprano singer. A statuesque lady in a plunging neckline on stage - with wheat ocher skin and a strong tan,  with curly hair of fragrant vanilla, light titanium, with a necklace of pearls around her neck, with tangerine lips,  a sprig of rose, a flower, and a ruby ring.  The gallant men who played in the plays, for example The philandering cavalier was a connoisseur of manners, he did not let the lady get bored, Although he was fond of sweets, he was an original, and he amused me with his ideas.  Gift box from Bavaria in a light blue diamond shape with orange corners, packaging for sweets or cakes. Inscriptions of the names of the girls of acquaintances are in memory. — (For Mr. Philanderer, a fitting find.)

The Painter. For Mr. Philanderer, with a ladder in addition, a suitable find.
 Here is a portrait of a familiar girl, Rosa unforgettable. Behind a high fence, in a green garden, I can't forget a wild rose. Rose is obstinate, prickly, proud, and not sweet to everyone.
But when I think about her, I forget about her prickles, even though she has a glib tongue, not every gentleman of well-worn manners is ready to talk to her more closely. But when I think about her, I forget about her thorns, and not everyone can get along with her.

Actress. Here's another girl traveling with her aunt. With a bright red hairstyle.  What a hot tan the girl has. The veranda is filled with the fire of a curly-haired maiden with the face of ripe strawberries, but probably not from the bright sunlight. Fraulein blushed with embarrassment, and immodest attention to her form, at your unexpected appearance, lips pursed, with excitement, and the gentlemen only have fun.

Actress. That strange gentleman Robber is already in the hallway. in the mirrors, his face is like clay, as if overgrown with stubble, his eyes burning with an unkind fire.  Unkempt, sometimes a villain, accidentally got lost  among decent gentlemen. But it's clear that this robber knows the measure.  And, perhaps, he himself is ready to meet the "Lady with a necklace" here, and tell about his antics and misadventures. unless, of course, Frau wants to hear this at a private dinner party, because the Kaiser, in gratitude for the shelter, promised not to spoil here, and is also waiting for his finest hour, and promised to treat us with a cigar from the palace. Guten Morgen.   

The Tourist To the Driver. I definitely met this guy, he proposed dubious projects, but he got cigars from the palace.
The driver To the Tourist. The tobacco, it should be noted, was excellent.

The Painter. But it's clear that this robber knows the measure. And, perhaps, he himself would not mind meeting here.   "The lady with the necklace", and tell about his antics and misadventures, unless, of course, Frau wanted to hear this at a private dinner party, because the Kaiser, in gratitude for the shelter, promised not to spoil her here.

Frau Marta. Guten Morgen. It's still dusk outside, and the black coffee table is already comfortably set. A colorful pattern on an orange napkin is dancing on the shelf under the smile of a cheerful magazine. A mint coffee pot with cups is ready to meet the figure of a curvy overseas maiden in purple-pastel tones, black coffee with thick cream with an elastic twisted croissant and a sweet bun, as if from a ruddy moon, under the shadow of vials painted with spices on a scarlet stand.

 Actress. In the yellow clay desert there is a curved Tree of culture, on a hill behind a high fence, you can get there  climbing up the steep steps of a narrow staircase, from a height you will see only a mirage in the distance. The promenade in orange tones, oriental   the pattern appears among the cubic walls of the red sands of the plains and hills. The love song of the new moon spreads across the courtyard after the sweltering heat. Music sometimes looks weird. The musicians seem to be playing in a hurry, random sounds flying out of time. But rest, traveler, slow down yourself, don't get lost in the clouds, and the sounds will catch up with you in a pleasant romance. 

 Max. A theatrical program.  In the pink mist  on the parquet of the stage,  a ballet couple, soloists in an exciting scene, a ballerina aspires to the sky, Her partner froze at her feet, clenched like a spring, unable to follow her. the scene from the ballet "False Promise", despite the dubious suffering, did not disappoint the finale. On the background of an oriental striped carpet is a dance of a southern Beauty. Her eyes are closed with a veil, and her leg is slightly covered with a translucent cape. The dancer is graceful, moves skillfully to the music, and the charming curves of her body.

Actress.  On dark paper, a comedian hides under a mask of fun, revealing a confused face for a moment when the mask is put aside. Daytime music weaves the melodies of the shadows of my dreams into the colors of the day , which have not yet manifested themselves in the ink of your memories.

The Painter. Daytime music weaves into the bright colors of the day the whimsical lines of the shadows of your dreams, which have not yet manifested themselves in the ink of my memories.

 Max. It's a winter morning, and there are dark footprints of birds and animals in the snow.  Gray patches of shadows and curved lines of branches create human figures.  In a silent winter dream, gray-blue hills dream of the spring sun, of picking peaches in gardens, of a woman with a necklace in warm colors.  The landscape of the winter village has shadows between the mountains like the northern lights.  at home, wrapped in snow, everyone wants the sun.

Tourist. It's nice to keep warm in winter. Strong moonshine has bluish shades spreading across the cardboard. Under the roof with a chimney, on the table –a piece of bread ration. The moon's disk doubles over the hills from the frosty air. You can feel the fumes warming you slightly, with the turpentine scent of pine. But the braking moments, the image is broken into fragments.

 Frau Marta.  As if on an olive tray of shredded cabbage, the city is young. It's probably not sad to live in it, surrounded by such greenery.  We collect vegetables and put them out on the fire: onions, carrots, potatoes and lettuce. Everyone will be happy to have such a treat. Colorful vegetable set, like an autumn treasure map. Vegetables, berries, flowers and bushes lined up in fancy rows. The curly pattern of trees is falling off, the forest and hills behind the fence have become visible. A summer house made of thin planks, blown through by a light autumn breeze, a path and bridges leading to a quiet river. The autumn garden is still filled with voices and cheerful bustle

COTTAGE BY THE SEA
 Actress. The sea has blue stripes, a purple horizon, meadows with squares of fields with dots of plants, Buildings on the shore, there is a lighthouse.  After our hills and mountains, there is breadth and vastness. A song about sea voyages is playing. There are shadow figures on the shore, the sounds of a lyre and a harpsichord, an old fisherman sings about fair winds, sails and masts of ships, transparent fishing nets. A familiar Wave is coming to the seashore.  In the platinum gray hour of sunset, waiting for the moment of meeting,  A specific Wave came to the rendezvous from far away, and she gossips with the seagulls, and the return looms. And send greetings from the local people.

Driver. The ship, which has plowed the seas a lot, is stuck to the pier at a random port is tired. The bell of the market has not yet sounded, the crew will converge on the deck, for another walk, even though the scars on the shore are indifferently listening to his hull. But no matter how you rock along the way, the Moon is like a true friend of a sailor. It keeps the secrets of its intricate path, and will help to lay a reliable route to the new pier. The foam is rocked by a sea wave. The sea mosaic pebbles like splashes froze for a moment,  mud dries up on the rocks, red rocks burn in the sun , a mottled border is visible in the distance, white seagulls are screaming in the sky. The sailor is ready to go, without a doubt, he will find adventures in another port.

Max. Bright pebbles painted the gray wall, sea spray froze for a moment, green mud dries in the stones, red rocks burn in the sun, a mottled border is visible in the distance, white seagulls scream in the open, a sea wave shakes foam in the bay, a portrait of a sailor among the details of the tackle, a tanned face, a snub nose, a smile,eyes burning from under a blue beret, anchors on the windbreaker, folds of a bright robe,friends will wait on the shore, Aufiderzein! See you soon! the song about the free winds on the sea sounds.

Max.  The moonrise illuminated the lines of the hillocks, roofs, and corners with shadows.  Nets are drying on poles among the sand and boats. The shores and sandy lines merge in the distance, A scattering of dots, circles, bends of bushes, heavenly patches. A curl of thought, like cardboard, gathered for you Fragments of an abstract drawing at sunset.

Dolly. Clarity in a complicated case is hidden by a light calico binding. It's a small world of toys, a tangle of plants, bizarre shapes, and elusive details. The fragile world is picking up the pieces of the past, desperate to fit into a cramped but familiar box. In the picture there is a puzzle, the number 17, a diagram with arrows draws a strange rebus. Reconstructing the answer to a task will require diligence and detailed attention.

MOUNTAIN CASTLE.
 Driver When they decided to build viaducts in the mountains out of boredom, they got off the road and got a pile of debris. The platinum site has orange, yellow, and brick masonry. The viaduct, like a giant, spread its legs wider than necessary, slightly retreated from the road.
He is still strong and strong, but only a traffic jam has formed on the way, and there is no way to get through.

The Painter. The mistress of the Mountains reveals her secrets to the Mining master. Internal compression and tension mechanisms, stone veins, permeate mountain ranges: granite winches and basalt belts carefully preserve the shape of mountain cliffs.  during the period of natural unrest . Building a tunnel is not an easy task.  It is required to shift the age-old layers, strengthen the arches of slopes and rocks, otherwise rock falls and landslides cannot be avoided. Be careful when conquering ancient mountains!
Moss-covered rocks have been silent for centuries. With a guttural growl and a screech of iron, a steel mountain mass invaded this peace.  The mighty jaws of the machines greedily tear out and crush granite blocks, boldly exposing the inside of the giants, revealing rusty-purple layers of earth.
A steel track is laid for cast-iron wheels, planting their signs on the conquered path, about the victory over the age-old giants. In return, the Mistress of the Mountains took the master's peace of mind with her,  now he is searching among the stones for an amulet for his soul.

Actress. For the secret of conquering the peaks, the Mistress of the Mountains took peace of mind with the mountain master. Now he wanders among the rocks, in search of a cherished amulet for a wounded soul.

In the heart of the mountains, there is a secluded corner, offering a wonderful view: ancient trees from a height are like the horns of a wild tour They guard this secret land from prying eyes. Like pyramids on the seashore, dotted with colored spots, the stones hold the cherished desires of ancient giants that once roamed. There's an amulet among the stones. That will restore peace to the suffering soul.

Max. The crystal mountain holds the secrets of the earth's treasures, hidden by the thick crust, like the darkness of the night from prying eyes, waiting in the wings. The conquest of the mountain. Olive-stone slopes of ancient mountains,  The mighty jaws of the machines greedily tear out and crush granite blocks, boldly exposing the inside of the giants, revealing rusty-purple layers of earth.
A steel track is laid for cast-iron wheels, planting their signs on the conquered path, about the victory over the age-old giants. In return, the Mistress of the Mountains took the master's peace of mind with her, now he is searching among the stones for an amulet for his soul.

Actress. The Hermit's hut on the far side, where the graveyard is ancient And the shadow hides a dilapidated hut, forgotten in the wilderness. Behind the old shrubbery lies the darkness of the cave, where the old mirages are silent. The path is overgrown, under moss and hummocks, among the centuries-old pines, invisible to the eyes. Only wild animals and lonely birds keep the secret of what is hidden from us here. The owner is no longer waiting for anyone on the threshold, His lot is peace, where time has lost its way. Slowly, the Hermit walks around his edges. He talks to the spirits of the ancient forests. Erects an invisible barrier against foreign invasions, Reads the stars of the sky pattern at night, comprehends the mysteries of the universe. Weaving magic words into the book  that they are awaiting their due date. And a student who will appear at the right time, and will master this magic in full, in a land where time has lost its way.

The Painter. Smoke is streaming over the thicket beyond the swamp, The glow of a campfire is visible at dusk. Creaking voices can be heard in the clearing. The forest witches have organized their sabbath, Their crazy dance around the campfire. A magic potion is boiling in the bowels of the cauldron, The old women bent down to make up the collection, An armful of wild buckthorn, branches of flowers, Intoxicating aroma, sooty masks are staring. Ancient incantations, raspy mutterings, Before the first roosters, their barbaric rite. Through dark nets of shadows, from eternal dreams, Whimsical faces, they keep glimpses of legends. And shadows on the branches with multicolored highlights, And a whisper of the past, which does not sound accidental.

The Painter. An aging Phoenix, battered by fate, but proudly holds the shaft above his head. Strategist of past battles, he guarded the seeds that grew in the field in the wind - perhaps someday, thanks to him, there will be a wonderful garden here.   The ancient Shield of a brave hero without rest.  The bow that holds the inscription with the words of the prophet. It has been battered over the centuries, its pattern is worn, and the scars of enemy arrows remain,  the notches of the vows, he worked well in the valiant hands of the hero, are now carefully preserved in memory for the lesson. The painting "The Law," explains the sage. Not everyone will dare to figure it out, in a set of important symbols, a pile of words and signs, for those who take it, someone's fate is being decided.

The driver. On the old gloomy cardboard, the shadows are intertwined in a camouflage pattern, There is a battle that does not know the law, the old gliders have a devastating dispute. Two unreasonable bookcases are rushing into the sky by the grace of those who taught them to fly, unaware of the gallant manners when meeting, they prefer a battering ram at a height. And their pilot friends are suffering, like an extra detail in a mechanical game, only a parachute will snatch them out of a dive.  And it will gently bring you to earth. Camouflage maze, among branches, withered leaves,  placers of raw sand, between ruins, shadows, fragments of machinery and wheels, chaotic rows of barbed wire. field mice have laid trails and burrows, and their circumvention preserves the secrets of a forgotten place.
While the weather is not flying, thunder is rumbling in the sky. Perhaps the new bookcase is already over the hill. Waiting for a flight.

Dolly. There are hidden passages in the mountain castle, There is a door to a secret room behind the wall of the corridor.  ghostly silhouettes lurked on the shelves, mysterious mechanisms and objects.  An outlandish car can chirp, just turn its handle, a painted bird will spread its wings, turn its head, make a sound and guide its eyes. Chirp, chirp, chirp will sing, as if in the forest, you just need to start the engine at the car. But if the eyes don't move, the wheels need lubrication.

Max. The painted bird will spread its wings and turn its head.  Chirp, chirp, chirp will sing, as if in the forest, you just need to start the car on time. But if the eyes don't move, the wheels need lubrication. The device has a musical kaleidoscope. The glow of shiny rods, purple, orange rays. They danced like a kaleidoscope of figures on a dark background. The music started from the spring and the mysterious drum.  On the table is a doll town between patches of fields, At night, the town shrank against the hill, shrouding the tiny windows in shadows, its roof wrinkles on the glass were reflected like a mosaic on the moon.

A Tourist. Fan and Mask forgotten in the gazebo after the carnival, an unsolved mystery   Arabic fairy tales, the whisper of the night surf of distant lands.  An exotic still life is frozen on darkened cardboard, in muted tones. Several dark olive figures that came down from the pages of a book of ancient legends, bizarely reflecting the light from the lanterns and flashing with spots of multicolored glare. And although there aren't many of them on the bedside table, they exude an overseas secret anxiety.

BELVEDERE PARK
Actress.  Painted tray,Juicy greenery is dancing, amid slanting hurried strokes. In the hushed rain melancholy, a reflection trembles on the paths. The dandy who froze under the crown of the clipped trees, ripples disturb the transparent fringe, the surface of the pond, the murmuring melody finds an answer on the lips of a piece of beauty, the words of farewell rustle, A dried herbarium lurks between the pages. And, sometimes they give more ideas about the meeting.  The raw color appears in a light stripe on the purple watercolor. Worries remain outside the line, in the leisure area, lazily, Idle bliss envelops, intertwining with raindrops. Three juicy fragrant fruits of the subtlest influence of vibrations excite the sense of smell. They awaken a swarm of memories, To the tune of your song in the rays of a tiled sunset and splashing through puddles among shadows and lanterns.

The Painter. Autumn gives way to early winter. I notice her silhouette from afar,  Despite its simplicity, it cannot be confused with anyone else. She exudes nobility, Surpassing simple beauty. I see her golden skin, surrounded by silver highlights,   from the clouds, in a clear sky. The image is imprinted in my memory, The expectation of the meeting envelops, With a soft charm of anticipation. Making your heart beat faster. These Moments of approach, They enhance my admiration for a mysterious, self—contained person, Is she ready to reveal Her indestructible secrets to me? The intoxicating scent of perfume. I'm trying to imagine her again

Max. A scientific experience, a sketch of a fateful moment, a complex experiment. The three juicy fruits display a mature pattern, demonstrating the subtle effect of their vibrations on the sensitive mechanism of smell. On the roughened cardboard of time from the evening sunset  terracotta house with a roof blazing with red brick heat,  hidden by a dense shadow the color of wet asphalt, the weeds around the corner are dotted with a scattering of rusty dots from a spotted deer, a tangle of oblique square wires outlined by a purple line of poles.

Dolly. The rose garden is full of flowers, but you can't see it. Only by soaring up, you can take a look at this wonderful Rose Garden. Although there are quite a few rose bushes, the gardener is painfully stubborn, watering everyone from a tub, and there is a high fence with a tower around the bush. A kind bird will find out, tell you how many new flowers bloom in the morning.

 Max. We're hunting fish by the pond. Fishermen are preparing gear on the burnt-out grass of the pond shore, And in the depths of the dark waters, a large fish is thinking in the pond, guessing from the shadows which fish will be able to grab the worm first and deceive the fisherman, different fish have gathered in the depths, watching the efforts on the shore. Someone will leave , but the other will not be able to intercept the treat from someone else's bite.  On the gray silk grass, the gentlemen are relaxing by the pond, one is sunbathing on the shore, the other is immersed in waist-deep water. He froze so as not to muddy the cool waters of the pond. An unexpected meeting for the painted gentlemen. There is an embarrassment of painted gentlemen without vestments in the sand glade. Meeting on a deserted sandy beach , they prostrate themselves in front of each other, without objections. 

Dolly. A cat and a bird, they have a drama unfolding: a cat is hunting a bird.   The cat closed her eyes slyly, pretending to be asleep. She's got her claws ready, it's time to grab them, but when she opens her eyes, luck has slipped away from her, the bird has disappeared, she can no longer be seen.
But little does the red-haired old lady know that a mottled bird is perched on top of her head. On the canvas, a snake curled into a slate-gray, veined ball, while a blizzard threatens outside the window, for its temporary shelter, she will occupy only a small corner in the basement for winter leisure. 

Driver . On a cardboard made of fog, a cautious but stern beast prowls in search of shelter. He also needs to take a break, in nature, not in close quarters, but in the open.

Max  In the savannah. There are steppe hills in the watercolor, the yellow sun burns through the cardboard. The lion family of animals is a circle, they are curly and gnarled, but how evil!
The eldest beast, with a loud roar, brings order between relatives. And they don't have a trainer who gets along great and can pet them. A casual traveler in these parts hears the sounds of danger from afar.  Don't come any closer!

Actress. Still life by the mirror – a chaos of random things, a figurine of a wolf the color of green tea, with horror, his eyes burning The beast digs into an unfamiliar object. Believe me, the wild beast was frightened by things he did not understand: a mirror, boxes, a coral night light on a long leg, leaves of a dry herbarium, a pyramid, and a glass. Wolf vocals may be waiting for you at night. Having sheltered a wild animal in your corner, do not be surprised   howling at night, he feels uncomfortable among unfamiliar things.  The leaves of the herbarium are dry, but he feels a green longing!

Driver. In the drawing, the mighty ox bent over for a sip of water.  Have a short smoke break and go back to the fields to the open. For their labors, the land is waiting for the harvest. Perhaps, under the cover of the silent night, here, near the drawing, where there is a strip of water, a wolf's long-drawn howl will suddenly be heard. The wolf of the forest complains to the ox with mighty horns as a friend, he is just tired among the incomprehensible things in a stranger's room.

Max. Gloomy shadows are frozen on the landscape of the town, night ghosts float among the valleys. The streets of the village are bathed in the light of lanterns, dissecting the night gloom like a sapphire. Our targets disappeared into the fog like mirages, leaving only a pale silhouette of the moon.  A settlement in a quarry between the mountains is spread out in an ochre pile.
Sunset painted the houses and hills, touching the emerald greenery in the distance.

Frau Marta. The pastel symphony of landscape on canvas is akin to simple joys on a table: crackers, buttered sandwiches, a couple of eggs, carrots and toast – a saucer of a blue lake rests next to it, like a fragment of the azure sky.

The actress. Flora hid her first outfit on the rocks at the last sunset. That drawing between the stone slabs keeps secrets of bygone times.  Having cleared the lichen and moss on the rocks, he will appear to the eye. traces of plants, trunks and branches, curved lines, elegant bouquet.  Curly stems, leaves, flowers, and footprints somewhere  from seeds and fruits. Will the learned people be able to create a garden of Eden based on their imprint?

Max. Sports keep you in good shape, do not let you relax too much.  A group of gymnasts in the gym, pink silhouettes flashing.  Overhead there are ribbons and balls, the movements on the parquet are graceful and cute, marked with smooth strokes of shadows on a mother-of-pearl background. And the athletes are in the next gym, the muscles have gathered tension.  They have heavier objects to build up their muscles.  In the pool, swimmers, tanned to shiny brass, flash by in a rapid swim, drawing antique ornaments on the water with their caps, shoulders, and hands, their shadows rapidly diving and returning the glare on the water.  The friends will meet in the evening in the dance hall, to rhythmic music with hot girlfriends and iced drinks.

The Painter. And on the boardwalk, girls float out of the fog, from summer sunburn in agate-colored dresses, like curly weightless clouds, graceful figures beckon, like unlocked doors in fabulous dreams.  The embers of the eyes under the arches of the eyebrows sparkle fervently, the curve of the back, the knees are warmed by the sun, visible from a distance. Remembering the flap of transparent Pareo that protected your tanned thighs in the sultry hour. He hid her from the southern rays and the indiscreet eyes of others. The colors are in the spirit of antiquity. Wide brushstrokes, walls and shadows of a dense windfall rushing skyward, colored lines converged, here verticals alternated with rare crossbars, sometimes with circles of yellow domes, the edges of worn carpets. and piles of stones, it would seem, in such a wilderness, but still, to tell the truth, they quite trustfully beckon, find a warm response in the corners of the soul.

Actress. That piece of transparent Pareo that protected the hips in the sultry hour.  The colors are in the spirit of antiquity. Wide brushstrokes, walls and shadows of a dense windfall rushing skyward, colored lines converged, here verticals alternated with rare crossbars, sometimes with circles of yellow domes, the edges of worn carpets. and piles of stones, it would seem, in such a wilderness, but still, to tell the truth, they quite trustfully beckon, find a warm response in the corners of the soul..

THE PALACE
Actress. A palace on a purple parade ground between ocher-colored houses. Its two-story red facade with high openings of windows, a grand entrance, and a balcony filled the entire width, a centipede of triangular tiled roofs fit on top under a dark violet sky, and there was a reception in a gilded hall. And the musicians were playing solemnly on the balcony, and the friendly waiters were serving champagne.

Driver. Crossroad. Pink-sand-brown cardboard assembled,  The intersection stretched out, pushed aside the sidewalk and pavement, pushed the corners, squares and street edges apart, and opened up a wider expanse, But, be careful, this one is just his temporary weather whims, not for your fast driving.

Actress. In the pink milky blue mist of autumn,  The mosaic emerges through a drizzle of vapor, when the mists blocked out the light, only silhouettes of trees and elements of buildings are visible. People murmur around them amid an unknown hum, hissing, rumbling and moaning. But in an instant, the sound waves froze like dunes in a desiccated desert.  A star rises above the cradle full of hope and expectation. In the gray-purple space, the weightless image of the creator floats, woven of thin lines of light, in a light vestment, calmly spreading his fingers to the sides and resting his feet on the ether, he comforts anxious people, brings peace and tranquility to the suffering soul. The new angel takes on a form that is understandable and familiar to you. The bright images are woven from stardust in the sky, and are also mysterious and incomprehensible to the late traveler,  wandering through the darkness of the night.

STUDIO VERANDA
After examining some of the paintings, Max noticed: "Yes, the colors used here are diverse, sometimes the combinations are completely unexpected. But many canvases... they are not that incomprehensible, but rather quite mysterious. I'm not an expert on painting at all, but sometimes it's impossible to make out where everything is depicted." The Painter replied: "Modern painting is not botany or zoology. It's more about music and psychology. What matters is not the literal look, not the accuracy of the colors, but the feelings, the melody that is born after the look. Here, for example, is this dark autumn painting... what motive can you choose for it?" Max thought for a moment and said, "If only... a farewell tango." "Exactly! – The Painter exclaimed. – If the eye hasn't got used to it yet, then the gut feels it.… And that's not bad, you feel the music perfectly in a seemingly non-musical way."

The Painter. That's what's in the picture. Insomnia is tossing and turning, uncomfortable without you, On an official, cold bed, in a strange city. At night, the boulevard is outside the window, everything will not calm down at the end of the day , The lights of the signs are on and dancing in the rain. On the pavement and in the treetops trembling, The glare of the lanterns, twisting, in the dark channel. Silk curtains, lampshades, sleepers in the windows, They spin their own stories, playing solitaire at night. Music, snatches of phrases, laughter – sometimes funny, sometimes arrogant, Someone has their own alignment, their own world, their own destiny. The alphabet of the night is hard to make out, but inspired, I took up a brush, a dream excites my imagination.
New plots, bright as flashes, in my head, But I remember our tango with nostalgia, like in a dream. In a cafe to the sound of street musicians, that evening, Where the world was quiet, and it was just us and the music in my soul mine sounds like the most loyal friend.

The Painter. Sometimes the music (as well as the painting) can seem in harmoniously strange. It immediately seems that the musicians of the orchestra are rushing around in chaos, playing in a hurry, random sounds flying in dissonance, cutting the ear without getting to the beat.  But traveler, take your time, take a break, look around, slow down,  Don't get your head in the clouds, and the sounds will catch up with you in a pleasant romance. 
- My works are full of music, and over time, I think you are a young man with your inner flair. you can solve it.
 And what did you like, pretty woman? — The Painter. asked the girl.
She smiled thoughtfully and replied, —Except that the colorful mountains are not at all like the old masters, rather like a wicker basket, and dolls and puppets whose threads of fate are intertwined. The Painter. It's wonderful, music opens hearts.
The Painter. straightened her hair at the mirror, got ready for the road and, taking a deep breath, noticed that she probably already smelled of paints.  There was genuine joy in his voice from visiting an old friend, whom you can't find with fire these days. "Well, my friends, it's time!" See you again!" The artist, touched by the unexpected visit, signed and handed everyone his impromptu sketch portrait, which captured their fleeting presence in his studio, as a token of gratitude. "Goodbye, when will I see you again?"
 Repeat everything together: Music sounds in my soul, we remember the tango, to the sounds of street musicians, that evening, where the world was silent, and it was just us, and the music sounds,  as the most loyal friend.

Comments.  For The Painter, it was the most fun exhibition of his paintings, remembering the meeting, he wrote many more works, and some were exhibited in the local museum, the actress inspired the director's wife to create new successful films, the young people finished their education and later got married. Max, having become a composer, based on the memories of a memorable trip, created an opera for a home performance "An Actress in the shelter of an Alpine hermit," which Aristide chose for her Benefit. The driver often recalled a trip to a cheerful artist, whose drawing he placed in a frame in a prominent place, and Frau Marta often sang while looking at the paintings, her cheese and masks were popular among tourists. The tourists seized cheese, funny masks, and eventually successfully sold a couple of paintings they had purchased.
   A review from an art magazine is being broadcast on the radio.
At the last exhibition at the Gallery, Mr. Hegel presented several fresh canvases, but it is difficult for an inexperienced eye to grasp the nuances that distinguish them from previous works. The riot of colors is alien to the master's palette, but an attentive eye will discern bizarre shapes in a chaotic jumble of thick, generously applied brushstrokes on the canvas. However, the current palette tends towards lighter tones. Trying to get into the master's idea, the correspondent turned to the author with a question: how to interpret the canvas, what signs are hidden in these abstract brush movements?
     Mr. Hegel's answer: Modern painting, without displacing classical harmony patterns, complements them — it offers other ways of perception, freeing the viewer from literal interpretation and encouraging dialogue. Tradition serves as a pillar, and experiment gives a new meaning. Impressionism teaches us to see transience and light, expressionism conveys emotional tension through deformation and color, naturalism pays attention to everyday life, the avant-garde breaks forms, looking for a new language. This helps to recognize the echoes of chiaroscuro, colorist and plastic experiments on the canvas. Rethinking the techniques of the past, the artist moves away from describing figures and events to the non-objective expression of moods, emotions, combinations of colored spots, shapes of lines. By adding features of local flavor, each detail retains its own energy and creates a new language. In such an alloy, a braided amulet is born, appealing to the former spirits of cultural memory with different densities of harmonic vibrations, forcing the viewer to look at the world in a new way. When insomnia is in a strange city, the boulevard will not calm down at the end of the day. The lights of the signs and lampshades dance in the waters of the canal, the shadows of memories weave their stories, I take up my brushes and write, to the sighs of the saxophone and the sound of rain.