torsdag 7 augusti 2008


Någon har klottrat ett par ögon över fasaden tvärs över gatan. Effecten är uncanny när man passerar och byggnaden jagar en med blicken. Foine Oyes, vilket JM brukar säga till mig, you've got fine eyes. Varpå R och S stirrar på oss tvärs över baren och R säger, That's disgusting. Och vi skrattar, men hans ögon har redan slocknat. Its not funny. Nu kan jag i all ensamhet stirra in i stenen tvärs över gatan, från mitt uppslagna fönster, och möta den döda spraypaint blicken som det sura regnet långsamt förvrider. Foine Oyes. Helt appropå kommer jag att tänka på den här lilla passagen ur Hoffman's Sandmannen:

"Accordingly, he controlled himself with an effort, and said, as quietly and as calmly as he possibly could, "I don't want to buy any weather-glasses, my good friend; you had better go elsewhere." Then Coppola came right into the room, and said in a hoarse voice, screwing up his wide mouth into a hideous smile, whilst his little eyes flashed keenly from beneath his long grey eyelashes, "What! Nee weather-gless? Nee weather-gless? 've got foine oyes as well--foine oyes!" Affrighted, Nathanael cried, "You stupid man, how can you have eyes?--eyes--eyes?" But Coppola, laying aside his weather-glasses, thrust his hands into his big coat-pockets and brought out several spy-glasses and spectacles, and put them on the table. "Theer! Theer! Spect'cles! Spect'cles to put 'n nose! Them's my oyes--foine oyes." And he continued to produce more and more spectacles from his pockets until the table began to gleam and flash all over. Thousands of eyes were looking and blinking convulsively, and staring up at Nathanael; he could not avert his gaze from the table. Coppola went on heaping up his spectacles, whilst wilder and ever wilder burning flashes crossed through and through each other and darted their blood-red rays into Nathanael's breast. Quite overcome, and frantic with terror, he shouted, "Stop! stop! you terrible man!" and he seized Coppola by the arm, which he had again thrust into his pocket in order to bring out still more spectacles, although the whole table was covered all over with them. With a harsh disagreeable laugh Coppola gently freed himself; and with the words "So! went none! Well, here foine gless!" he swept all his spectacles together, and put them back into his coat-pockets, whilst from a breastpocket he produced a great number of larger and smaller perspectives.

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