Centre-east: ode to Jelena and Nadja, pt. 2

When I told Jelena I was reading “The Bridge Over The Drina” she said, You know, it was Ivo Andrič who encouraged Mother to write her book,
you know it was ivo andrič who encouraged mother to write her book
.
I shall now bring some more light
(if light needs be brought onto this ill bounded words by digital constraints the feeble privileged medium i chose as my wordy vehicle because sometimes if things are left in the borders of dawning and dusking in the fringes of a beautifully bounded innuendo)
to Jelena. She would not like it, I can imagine her saying, No, no, bless you my love, I have no importance, you should talk about Nadja,
no no bless you my love i have no importance you should talk about nadja
(so it happens that nadja is jelena's sister and being jelena the most selfless being seconded only by someone else who came now into my mind and of whom i shall be mentioning later in time and time and again person i've ever met she tries to deflect all the attention drawn to her to her sister)
. I only met Nadja once and when I told Jelena how I thought the two of them were very much alike and extremely pretty, she told me, Bless you, little one, don't say such things, all old cats are gray,
bless you little one don't say such things all old cats are gray
. But of Jelena and Nadja I shall talk about later, more thoroughly, because no less than that are they entitled to. Bringing them into light and onto this stream of thought
(connecting three books i read in a row and which left a deep impression on me that still endures and makes me wonder still some unsolved mysteries i cannot shake off of me and truth be told i will not god willing)
is just another way of honoring them with the important role they play in my life, despite the short amount of time I have known them for.
Jelena
(and i am so sorry if i keep repeating myself and quoting other people but rather than myself being unable of creating an original idea i prefer to think that there are no original ideas but that every utterance is indirect or indirect build-up on everything we come across with. or maybe i just chose jelena as my strong poetress the one i hold my lieges to)
told me what she felt when she first saw the bridge over the Drina, the one in Višegrad, I was little when Mother took us and it was so big, so beautiful
i was little when mother took us and it was so big so beautiful
.
It is useless to dwell on the matter of the historical romance when writing about “The Bridge Over The Drina”
(just as i avoid doing so whilst writing about war and peace and furtherlater about the dawning)
, because it has been spoken about so many times and by many people that so little, actually nothing, I could add to it. What seems to me the great trait of this work by Andrič is the fact that, there might be something in space and time that endures whilst everything around it changes and sometimes collapses
(and being the ongoing metamorphoses of things the most prominent trait of the naughties it is ironical to point out how can stone something so material can endure whilst the austrian replaced and turks and then were replaced by the natives)
. Just like “War & Peace”, “The Bridge Over The Drina” concerns history
(one through characters that we read growing up tolstoy's and other through a bridge and what revolves around it andrič's)
and many times focussing on the daily trifles, bringing to our attention the details of daily life and how it was lived both in times of wealth and scarcity. Maybe I'll be promoting stereotypes
(for every time the verb to be is used on the present tense a definitive static statement is created leading then to a stereotype)
whilst bagging together center-Europe and east-Europe literature together. I believe I do it out of ignorance, and even acknowledging it, I am unable not prevent this action, for that is ignorance.