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The chunk =78= The message -512-
19/04/2020
Olga had a day off. Her husband stayed at home because he didn't have a job. The daughter was also at home, that day she did not need to go to tutors. Olga was preoccupied with a strange idea, and she was surprised at her own persistence. The first hundred messages! This is already quite a lot. One-tenth of everything, though only the beginning of something she couldn't grasp with one glance. She wanted to make a brief summary of each of the hundred messages she sent to Ahmed. She thought this would help her understand herself better.
Writing these messages is no longer just English practice. They have become something more. What is this now?
All these months, she saved all the messages, starting with the twenty-fifth, in Google Peeker. All that day, from early morning until late at night, she reclined in her bed, never looking up, reading, and compressing each of her messages to Ahmed into almost the point of one sentence, as short as possible. She wanted to find the most important thing. The family sometimes came to her room to ask what she was doing and could not persuade her to distract herself and do something else. This continued until all one hundred messages were ready and sent to Ahmed in Telegram. It was well after midnight. She couldn't think about the important anymore...
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The chunk =79= The message -513-
The next day, Olga saw in the Telegram that her messages had been read by Ahmed, who had not logged into his account for a very long time. She was a little surprised. She thought he'd turned off the notifications a long time ago. She felt uncomfortable due to her obsession. But then she thought that if he allowed her to misbehave in his account, did not block her aggressive presence, then ...here she stopped: there could be many possible scenarios. She couldn't imagine which version might turn out to be true: Ahmed was interested, but he was afraid to frighten her frankness with his answers, or he didn't care, or he didn't know how to block her, or he had turned off notifications long ago and entered by mistake, or he was liberal and perceived her messages as mini-sessions of psychotherapy, or...yes, there can be many reasons.
Olga thought that the second round of messages, the second hundred, would be nice to start with an acquaintance again. She found his PenPals account, which she blocked a year ago, and restored it. No messages were saved.
Olga asked him the same question about his avatar photo that she sent him when she received his first "Hello" a year ago: "This photo looks kind but dangerous. Why did you take it for your pic?”
Ahmed replied the same answer that one year ago: "Why dangerous?" and remained silent, again. “Nothing changes in the world”, thought Olga sadly.
The message 200
19/04/2020
The second circle of inferno.
The first acquaintance.
I have found your PenPals account among my blocked users. What is new: you joined two other languages you are learning, Spanish and German, similar with my Japanese Kaoro too. Maybe it would be a good idea to acquaint you two. You are two half of each other and maybe even soulmates!
You wrote about yourself in your account in Penpals: "Fan of languages, art, books and Piano .. I am also a fan of martial arts ..
I dislike arrogance, hypocrisy and ignorance.. I am not here for money issues .."
Also, I have known your nickname there, it sounds beautiful. What does it mean? Just a name? Last name?
And as usual, I suppose, the same scheme: you answered me because you wanted to know, if me ********. And then.. silence again.
The first acquaintance. Sometimes men send me interesting questions as a test of who I am (if I do not fit them, they usually write shortly: "Thank you."). Sometimes as a demonstration of their politeness and intelligence they start with long or short dithyrambs. Sometimes they say the simple "How are you?" Sometimes for the reason to show their intentions from the first words (here Arabs and Indians are the most skilled and inventive) they write me something like: "I am Rani, let’s talk, exchange thoughts and see where the conversation takes us? If interested, send a message my way...", or "Coffee or tea?" Isn't it nice? But grammatically shortened. I dislike when people make mistakes writing.
Also, I often meet guys starting like: "I love Russian women and I want you to be my wife", or : "Hello, dear", I immediately know, this man is an African or from Algeria, sometimes from India, and very often twice younger than me.
I don't remember how you started. Couldn’t you help me? I bet you only said “Hello”.
Jesus Christ Superstar - Everything's Alright - Legendado (PT/BR)
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The chunk =80= The message -514-
20/04/2020
Ahmed did not bother himself with an answer to Olga, who found that photo on his avatar the personification of the fragility of happiness and well-being. This mid-20th century photograph was taken by the artful circus performer Paul Meros at London Zoo. He posed for the photo with his two sons, aged six and seven. One of the boys was standing at full height on his father's outstretched arm, and the thrown back head of the second son seemed to serve as a support for balance. The kid on the arm was smiling and feeding a huge giraffe.
Ahmed liked the photo because he admired people who wanted to hone their skills by becoming professionals, especially in sports. He liked perseverance and the ability to be bold in people.
He was intrigued by the strange woman's persistence and became curious.
He quickly formed a new profile in PenPals, taking a photo of some unknown Arab, wrote to Olga: "You are very beautiful. I want to marry you." Immediately he got the answer:" Go to hell." Ahmed was shocked by such blatant rudeness and directed his attention to other women on the site, more friendly and understandable.
The message -201-
Hello, Ahmed.
When I write these two words of greetings I simultaneously recall all the photos of you, where you are staying and sitting in different poses, even head over heels, dressed in various clothes, with all specters of facial expressions. I can imagine you in different places, photos of which I saw without your person in it, but I know you have been there. And I can see all those people, videos, and all the garbage I ever saw and felt that is related to you.
I promised you 1000 short messages. I am going to shorten our correspondence in time, but I will not change the amount of them. The circle three will include 100 statements, the four 100 sentences, the circle six 100 words, the circle seven 100 formulas, the circle eight 100 signs. The fifth, ninth, and the tenth circles I didn't plan yet. I guess this scheme will be a difficult task.
This second circle I will send you with each message a part of my body (only a photo, Ahmed, I don't know your house address.. I know addresses of Universities however..no, bad idea to slay myself for your sake.. ), but never the image in whole. Good that you ignore me. Throw out my Telegram account!
Today a Japanese man, an old guy, sent me a beautiful song. I think it's a good fit for this post. I need silence now. Bye.
https://youtu.be/H7u5GtSIC5k
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The chunk =81= The message -534-
Olga went to her second Telegram account, where Ahmed was not there, to take some photographs and videos -- not mostly of herself but of the town -- for a new recent acquaintance from Japan. It was a man about 65 years old, Makoto. He had been writing messages to her almost every single day, for about two or three weeks, despite the fact that she had rarely replied to him.
Olga found it amusing that this Japanese man turned out to be a duplicate of her own state of affairs with Ahmed. Now she had the opportunity to feel the same as Ahmed: receiving letters from a person who was physically unattractive and psychologically uninteresting to her, for some reason did not catch on. However, Makoto's letters were quite warm and humane. This man percepted the world in all its globality that she had liked a lot.
Olga decided to keep his letters as well. A series of her own letters to Ahmed and letters to her from Makoto reminded her of ripples on the water: the moon reflection of a wave in a wave.
Makoto 1
08/04
I started walking around the house every weekend while many shops closed.
I walked yesterday, but there are few people.
I wonder if everyone was at home.
As a result, the supermarket was so crowded with people that cars could not be parked.
To eat at home.
I took a video of shopping and walking at the supermarket.
I wonder if you feel like you're together.
And I wonder if I can share my time.
I don't originally want to take it for Instagram.
Only the past is posted on Instagram.
Because each other's present time is important.
I hope you can smile with my photos and videos.
I think it's busy but I want you to send me your photos and videos.
Why?
You're fine so I can smile.
I don't need the video I'm singing (laughs)
Have a nice day.
my short poem
Makoto 2
10/04/21
Japan does not talk about coronavirus every day.
I often see nurses getting infected these days.
Those who really work at the forefront are next to risk.
Only thanks and respect.
Thank you for your hard work.
I want to have a more informative conversation because it is difficult to go out.
It would be great if the photos, videos and songs that I send were your daily pages.
Though the distance is long, the thought can reach.
People's hearts are the same regardless of cultural and religious differences.
Because of this situation
You can appreciate the value of everyday life.
Recently I'm thinking of doing what I can do now.
Thank you for meeting me and I hope to continue to have a good relationship.
Be really careful about your physical condition.
Have a nice weekend.
I always send power to you from Japan.
Do you feel the power?
Finally, let's do our best not to lose to the coronavirus.
Whenever I am in pain, my heart is near me.
Do not forget.
my short poem
Makoto 3
11/04/21
The company is closed from next Saturday to next Sunday again.
Of course I am also off.
I am now advised not to move with the coronavirus.
Think again about your future.
There should be something I can do.
People live by being supported by people.
I want to be someone who can support others one day.
I wonder if we haven't reached there yet.
The message you send is sent with emotion as time permits, but do you feel it?
I'm taking pictures of what I want to see in photos and videos and what I can do to relieve when I see them.
Do you know
On weekends, I take videos and photos that make me feel like I'm out together.
Why?
It would be great if you could put them together.
I want you to feel that you are near.
Of course until I was told that I wouldn't mind sending it.
Thank you for your warm message.
If you have the time, I would be more happy if you could send me your photos and videos.
Why? because I love you.
my short poem
Makoto 4
12/04
I had a day off early because of the coronavirus.
It's because the customer's manufacturing is down.
It will be closed for 10 days from now, but the store is closed and movement is restricted.
I often exchanged emails for work.
In the sense of avoiding face-to-face meetings due to the influence of coronavirus.
As long as I'm sending photos and videos, I'm sure you'll know that I'm virus free.
The only difference is that you can only do what you can do today.
The only thing I have decided now is to meet my mother on the 3rd.
I wonder if it will be the first time in 4 months.
I wanted to see the sea after a long time, so I think I should go for a drive.
I'm going to take a video because I think we're together.
I think everything started because you believed in me.
Thank you for sending me messages, photos and videos in a short time.
I would be happy if I could answer your thoughts.
Today my town has a maximum temperature of + 26 ° C.
It's about hot.
Isn't it called “poem”?
Because everything is true.
Makoto 5
14/04
i saw a shocking article yesterday.
An emergency paramedic at a New York hospital committed suicide.
She was infected in the hospital and returned 10 days later, but fell again. I came back because I wanted to help everyone in the workplace quickly.
Apparently he slept in the hallway, working 18 hours a day.
She had PTSD and severe depression.
I wish you all the best.
I also have a doctor friend. I'm really scared of infection every day.
It seems that daily there is a limit both physically and mentally.
I really hope you will spend it safely.
In the article, my family told me that everyone should be careful and survive.
Think again about the importance of life.
It is family happiness that you are alive.
Let's work together without losing the coronavirus.
There is one world.
Living is the wish of those who are fighting at the forefront.
As long as you are alive, you can open up the future yourself.
Let's do our best until the day we can return to our previous lives.
I hope the day has a lot of smiles.
I hope you can stay healthy every day.
I always hope
Makoto 6
15/04
Every time it's about coronavirus, let's talk differently.
I always feel.
He sent me messages, videos and photos for me.
Thank you for being really busy.
I'm happy with the kindness.
I'm taking photos and videos because I just want to respond.
Something to change your mind and make you feel at ease.
I started walking videos because I wanted to share some time.
Originally you had me now because you believed in me.
I want to have a conversation that connects me as much as I can.
I want to keep a good relationship with it all the time.
I always want to be close even if the distance is long.
Don't forget to thank you for meeting us.
Thank you for your wonderful encounter.
I'm this kind of me from now on.
I would be happy if it could be even one page of your life.
Finally, be careful about your physical condition.
Have a great weekend.
What about walking?
yes, I'll go.
The place to go is already decided.
I will send you the video again.
Please wait
my short poem
Makoto 7
16/04
What was commonplace is no longer commonplace.
Under the influence of coronavirus.
I think recently
I am relieved when I get in touch.
Why?
Because it doesn't have coronavirus.
I don't think I had this feeling when I got to know each other.
Why?
Sometimes I think he's thinking about me.
I pray that you are always healthy.
Of course, I hope we can continue to have a good relationship.
Let's ride each other until the day we can smile more.
Thank you for living every day.
Remember that there are people in Japan who are thinking about you.
Even if you're busy and haven't heard from you, I'm waiting for your call.
What time do you wait?
I'll be waiting for you forever.
Until the date of contact.
my short poem
Makoto 8
17/04
I don't find it fun to have a conversation that doesn't reach the heart.
I say and hear things I care about every day.
First of all, I often ask about my physical condition.
If you don't contact me, you'll probably have a cold.
It might be persistent, but it's impossible for me.
I think I'm an important person, so I'll ask.
So I feel relieved and relieved when I get in touch.
Recently, I'm taking photos and videos while wondering what you would like to see.
It may be visible in the future.
I repeat the four seasons but I think I can go to the same place.
That's enough if the photos and videos I'm taking will benefit you.
I just want to see only people with whom I have a heart. I have no interest in updating to instagram every day.
Even if you are busy, just contact me.
Promise me.
There are people here who are thinking about you.
I'm worried because I think he's an important person.
I hope you have a wonderful day.
I will send you the power from Japan.
my short poemII don't find it fun to have a conversation that doesn't reach the heart.
I say and hear things I care about every day.
First of all, I often ask about my physical condition.
If you don't contact me, you'll probably have a cold.
It might be persistent, but it's impossible for me.
I think I'm an important person, so I'll ask.
So I feel relieved and relieved when I get in touch.
Recently, I'm taking photos and videos while wondering what you would like to see.
It may be visible in the future.
I repeat the four seasons but I think I can go to the same place.
That's enough if the photos and videos I'm taking will benefit you.
I just want to see only people with whom I have a heart. I have no interest in updating to instagram every day.
Even if you are busy, just contact me.
Promise me.
There are people here who are thinking about you.
I'm worried because I think he's an important person.
I hope you have a wonderful day.
I will send you the power from Japan.
my short poem
Makoto 9
19/04
First of all, thank you for sending me messages, photos and videos while you're busy.
I would like to respond even a little, so please tell me if there is a request.
If you drive for about an hour, you can move around.
Where did you live?
This is Kasugai City in Aichi Prefecture.
However, because it is impossible to move to other prefectures due to the influence of coronavirus, it will be possible to move in Aichi prefecture.
You will probably find it by searching the Internet in Aichi Prefecture, Japan.
Of course I will continue walking.
I will continue to take walking videos and photos.
I understand that you send photos, videos and messages so hard.
It is really transmitted.
I can't express my emotions, but I'm really happy.
People are more important and important than they are now.
Of course I think we can be good people and we can continue our relationship.
I want to continue to have a good relationship and I valued it.
Don't forget to be considerate of each other.
I hope you have a nice day.
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The chunk =82= The message -536-
Chafik was an Amazigh from a small Moroccan town on the border with Algeria. The Amazighs are also Berbers, as is the nationality to which Ahmed belonged, so Olga tried to find out from Chafik their customs and mores. But Chafik didn't want to say anything. He said that he did not observe any customs, that he was a modern young man. They started playing some kind of game that could be called: " Tell me something about me and I'll tell you if it's true or not.” So, half-jokingly, making the most ridiculous assumptions about each other, they learned a lot about each other. Chafik wrote that he has some kind of mental illness, that goes through periods: through depressive, then through manic stages, if he does not take medication. And from the medicine, he is getting fat. He sent his photos of him where he was at different stages of the disease. Where he was on the rise, he looked handsome, fit, eyes alight, a bold look. In other photos, he is plump and lazy. Now Chafik's emotional background was suppressed by the drugs and he got a little fat.
Chafik worked as an accountant for a logistics firm. He sent her a photo of his office. But now, he explained, it wasn't working because there was a pandemic and everyone had to stay at home. But he was studying for a master's degree online. He sent her photos of notebooks with notes in French.
He kept asking Olga for her photo. But she didn't like sending photos to people who wanted them so badly. She spoke briefly about herself, about her age. The number 45 did not bother the 25-year-old at all. He told her about his love for a Morokkan girl and about his virginity. It seemed they became friends...
The message - 202-
Hello, Ahmed.
Today I keep your image in my head, maybe each second of the time, I feel you: when I am speaking with people, writing, chatting with others, reading my book, listening to other books, even eating and cleaning my house. You are always in my head. I have the sense that you are near me.
I am glad of that. I wanted to change myself, I started that alteration inside. Maybe.
When I imagine you near me, I see a strict cold snobbish man, who doesn't look in my direction. So I tried to imagine an ideal better Me, a woman who is able to attract this man. You became the opposite: interested, kidding merrily, laughing relaxed, polite and even loving. But all the time you look cold.
Today I had a long conversation with one young Amazigh from Morocco. I said to him, I was in jail with my man all these years, I meant it figuratively, but it occurred to me, he could get it directly. I asked. He didn't. He was very encouraging to me, I got light from him. Fine guy yet. The most painful thing is, such clear pure guys can become later, after many years of their life, ultimately cynical, rude and hypocritical. I saw you through his image talking with him.
So, I still think that you, dear Ahmed, were a fit candidate for my goals. I like you. I miss you. I wish to see, to feel you.
I wish I could know about you better, but you hide yourself as a snail ; in its shield. I cannot break this hard shell. I can see only a black hole ;, so deep in a darkness where you are. Like in yesterday's song, you were "born to tear me all apart" and I can only hear vague sounds of how you "play piano in the dark". Ha ha ha..
Makoto 10
22/04
I used to run home because of my father's violence and school bullying.
I thought about suicide but I couldn't. My father wanted to kill him many times, but his mother stopped him. I wish I could think of it now.
Since I became an adult, I have traveled more often by myself. I often traveled without any plans. I wonder if I went to all prefectures by car. Maybe I wanted to feel alive.
I also went abroad all alone. With a dictionary in one hand. Rent a car
I wonder if I went where I wanted to go.
I'm used to it because I had to leave home.
I have no religion or custom.
I accept the religion and customs of the country.
It's easy considering the old days.
I'm in an environment where I can choose my own future.
I also think that two people can do difficult things if they are alone.
If you think about it now, I think it would be happy to have someone to talk to.
There are always possibilities and good things for people.
It may just be unaware of you. I'm aware of your good points.
Have a nice day for yourself.
my short poem
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The chunk =83= The message -539-
Kaoro was delighted with Pelevin's short story "The Life and Adventures of Shed Number XII". He said that Pelevin is a genius. He liked the place where the shed flew over the caretaker of the seventeenth vegetable farm. Another of the few stories that Kaoro could find in a bookstore translated into Japanese, "Blue Lantern", certainly could not get a feel for him, because he had never been a pioneer in a Soviet pioneer camp, although he probably remembered from his childhood the horror of the anticipation of meeting the blue Ao-ando which came after a game of hyaku-monogatari, at night, when he went to the toilet alone. To this day, the Japanese use blue washi paper, dyed with gampi bark, for traditional lanterns. Perhaps the fantastic Japanese advertisement is a tribute to the ancient traditions of these kinds of games — an embodied mix of ancient Japanese horror stories and Hollywood-European, and in general, fantasy collected from all over the world. Everything will come in handy in a Japanese house.
Kaoro was also a fan of Dostoevsky. As Olga discovered, the love for “The Idiot” was widespread among the Japanese intelligentsia. Kaoro knew many classical pieces of music, Russian Musorgsky, Tchaikovsky. He said that he together with his wife were listening to the music.
The generally recognized examples of world classical culture are widely used in Japanese advertisements. Sometimes the use of replicas from there in advertising plots seemed to Olga somehow offensive to Culture in general, ridiculous antics of advertisers. She even began to think that in Japan advertisements exist specifically to humiliate other cultures in comparison with Japanese ancient traditions, which the Japanese show-makers rarely joked about in their advertisements.
Russian restaurants in Japan, recent printed editions of Russian contemporary writers translated into Japanese, whom she'd never heard about, Russian food in Japan, and Russian products in Japan were all sent to Olga by Kaoro.
Olga's phone rang so often with notifications from Chafik, Makoto, and Kaoro that Olga's ex-husband came to find out, consumed with jealousy, who wrote to her so often.
They quarreled recently because he endlessly demanded sex, did not work, did not bring money to the house and did not help her in anything, and did not even pay attention to her fatigue. It is true that he was jealous of her work and his sexual potency grew unreasonably.
She went to bed, having decided that, “now it will be forever”, in another room. There was an awfully tough and uncomfortable wooden bed, but that was better than his unbearable harassment.
Spring began unusually early and soon: in a day or two, the trees began and finished their flowering. She had never taken a picture for Makoto of that wonderful bush, which she passed every day on her way to work and which she looked forward to blooming: it faded just on her day off. Makoto uploaded his videos and photos of various places in Japan, over the top of a measure. She was interested. Of course, she could wander around Japan with some vlogger with a video in HD quality, but Makoto's messages were valuable because it was his own view of things, the video was made just for her. The real Japan, and not a specially selected presentation, it was — unadorned and ”unkempt", but all the same incredibly comely Japan.
The message - 203-
22/04/2020
Hello Ahmed,
Today I am sad. I saved a couple of Todoroki's photos, so I opened the file with it today, to take a fresh look at them. I have found a pic of you holding the hip of that girl. 2003. You didn't hide yourself, posing for the photo. You were married to an Algerian woman that year!
Sadness comes to me each time I see someone's pain. If you had the girl and the wife, there was a break-up. Who was a victim and who was evil? I cannot know. But it is always unbearable pain. At least for me. You are probably a superficial man who doesn't bother about his women, an insensitive womanizer. Maybe not.
For me to break up was worse than living with him. Maybe I am afraid to stay alone. I realize I will never find another, better, fit me, man. I'll be single. It even sounds horrible, but I will get used to it...
I had only him. Now it's painful to think that I threw away all the past joint years as a mummy I don't need anymore. I don't want us to become enemies. I don't want any scandals either.
Today he came into my room, asked if I had somebody.
He said he can go away from my house. I said he has nowhere to go. "Save some money and go to your country to live there happily". But yet we have enough rooms in my house to share housing together for a while but remain separate".
Today all trees start blooming, all at once. Spicy air. Warm rain. First green. Merry birds. I love such Springs. Such Spring is unusual for Tyumen. It seems I've never seen those modest red and yellow, blooming all simultaneously, trees before. I miss the first simple yellow flowers of coltsfoot: I saw several today, and two butterflies. Japanese old man sent me videos taken by him of Japanese splendid Spring. He lives near Nagoya city. Our Spring is more modest but no less fine.
Also, due to today's theme (that I casually had found your CV), I reread all of that. Interesting: what were you doing between 2005 and 2010? Where worked except studying? Were you supporting yourself on grants? But it was a very small amount of yen, and required strict reports, I suppose. The mystery...
So, Ahmed, I guess, your first wife was a Japanese woman. You have two children, 14 and 9 years old. A gentle girl and a nice boy. I am kidding: all have mixed in my head, Kaoru sent me pics of his two really fine children.
Each person I met on Penpals recently, it seems to be now, your clone.
The message - 204-
Hello Ahmed.
I miss you. I try to imagine how I embrace you, but each time I can grab only black air, empty space. I try to stroke your hair to feel if it is hard or soft, but they become waved dense bushy branches which I saw yesterday while commuting to work. I am trying to touch your cheek, it is so prickly.
Arabic
Several days ago I met a guy from Morocco, 25yo, an accountant, and Amazigh. He is normal. Just a normal guy. He has bipolar disorder, takes medicine, and visits a psychiatrist. Ironic is he is the most normal and reasonable man I met recently.
I find sometimes your unusual behavior is a sign of a mental disorder, and sometimes I feel and I want, intelligence and goodness in their difficult union were the force that moves your life.
What I would like to do right now is to hug you softly and cry silently about all my past life, about all my future life, for never to be flooded by tears again.
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
The chunk =84= The message -540-
A few days ago, Olga invited an Italian from Penpals to Telegram. A man over 50. He didn't hesitate to send her photos of himself in some bar with friends: all with beer bellies, with hefty mugs of amber liquid. Olga did not like drinkers. And this guy was clearly zealous in the consumption of alcoholic beverages. Then he told her about himself briefly, as it is customary, and sent her a photo of...his mother about 80 years old. His mother's smile was gentle but frighteningly predatory. Next to this a quiet, but spoiled, beautiful, and well-groomed, even in extreme old age, tigress whose dark eyes glowed with the hidden power of a selfish character the son looked like an edible pig. "He probably depends on her financially.", flashed through Olga's head. He sent her pictures of his hobby in abundance: a carefully tended garden with blooming geraniums, begonias, and other flowers. It looked frighteningly neat and beautiful. His name was Mio. He was romantic and polite, persistent and curious. One day, he asked her directly if she agreed to be in a “relationship” with him. Olga searched the entire Internet and did not find anything reprehensible in the English word "relationships", so she, half in jest, but carefully, replied that she was not against it, for the sake of experiment. Love-filled rivers of messages and questions poured in. Nothing intimate, just petty prying off all the most uninteresting circumstances from her personal life and an insistent daily “How are you doing?”. Olga was already exhausted from boredom: he did not understand what she was asking him and what she expected. He did not feel her. Finally, she wrote to him that she wanted to end the "relationship” and was breaking off all agreements. She is used to being polite to people who are polite to her and consistent in their actions.
And out of it poured what was fermenting in his beer-soaked brain: he sent questions with dirty overtones, aggressive statements and, finally, after a question from Mio, whether she liked anal sex, Olga blocked his account. It was nauseous.
And Ahmed didn't respond and read her messages. Well, that is, he came in once every two weeks or once a month and, for sure, just quickly looked through the texts that were boring for him. It was enough for her. She just posted her thoughts in a private, safe place. She felt comfortable. Ahmed's account became, as it were, an extension of her memory and her soul. She often talked to Ahmed, always in English, in her head, but did not have time to write down her thoughts: she forgot them before doing that.
The message - 205-
24/04/2020
Ahmed, I might have nothing to do but think about you all the time. Several days ago I joined one Italian from the USA. I felt wrong since the first of his messages...The world is ill. In the end, I feel disgusted by all those males I ever met. How can I trust somebody? Maybe you are the same dirty male, but I don't want to believe that.
I'm repeating your name in my head as if I make a gulp of clean water: Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ahmed, Ah-med, Ah-m-ed, A-h-m-e-d.., but cannot slake the thirst. **Ahmed**
Ahmed, I have the day off today. Yesterday we agreed with my friend from Irkutsk about meetings to learn English together. Such meetings we had two years ago, and later we were not in touch due to her and me changing our jobs and needed time for a while to adjust there. She works as a programmer in a University now. She is twenty years younger than me. I love her, it is always interesting to talk with her and we always have something to say to each other in Russian and in English. Tomorrow we have a lesson. I should prepare properly today. She is one of those my many acquaintances, I am sure, is honest, sincere, real, beautiful inside and clever.
Ahmed! My husband wanders around from kitchen to room, saying "I want nothing from you anymore. I will go away after the quarantine ends.” And he is asking me whom I now write letters to, Arab or to Japanese. He doesn't know that the letters I write to myself, Ahmed...
Today I saw the photos in your Safebook profile: I’ve missed you, Ahmed!
Makoto 11
23/04
Even if they are connected by the Internet, if they don't need each other, they have no relationship.
I don't look back on the past much.
It's not coming back.
I want to cherish the present.
I think there are many things that I've probably done a lot of rudeness and anger because I couldn't read my intentions.
I still appreciate what is needed.
People make many mistakes. It can sometimes hurt.
The relationship breaks down because it's a trivial matter.
If I'm wrong, please lead me in the right direction. I'm taught that people who scold me are people who think of me.
I never thought I was right.
Most of the people who look at me objectively are not right.
I think there are still some areas that are still lacking in humans.
I study life every day.
If you think you've grown more human, you'll find me more attractive.
I will be careful about what I say and do, so please keep a good relationship going forward.
I hope you will continue to have a good relationship.
my short poem
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The chunk =85= The message -541-
Olga's ex-husband — the former partner, was angry with her. He was beginning to realize that she had broken up with him.
She had even seen his tear-stained, swollen eyes once. It hurts. The pain of parting, even when love is no longer there, is unbearably sad. They lived together, even if not married, but as faithful and tender spouses, for 21 years.
The message - 206-
25/04
Hello, Ahmed.
Today's cold morning fits my mood. I was commuting to work, thinking about my "partner". I feel pain. He will be alone, having no home, maybe not be able to earn some money for supporting himself and renting a flat or a house.
I feel he is the closest person to me, even more close than all my relatives and our daughter. He always was our “father”, her and mine. He was even more father to me than to our daughter because he almost didn't take part in her life. He even didn't ask what she was going to do after graduating from high school. He, I guess, doesn't know about her high results in school. Despite us telling him about it, he forgot immediately due to not being appreciated for her achievements.
He worked hard to earn some money, but he is so dimwitted that he never had a good income. If he received money, he spent it all rapidly for petties. Never save something for the future. We have been living in a lack of money until I went to work. But as soon as I started working, he lost his job. Each time I have a job — he does not, I have not any work — he gets it.
Yes, he is kind and cares about me and our daughter, but too stupid for to be creative, alive, vivid, vibrate. He is as primitive as an orangutan. His attitudes are not just simple, but miserable.
Also, he is an insatiable male. He is tender but not skilled, not delicate. I made all he wanted and even more, in the beginning, but he killed my desire by his tactless comments. I refused many sexual games, for example, I have not even kissed his mouth for many years and avoided each time he tried to kiss me. I am not mentioning more intimate things I refused. I liked having sex with him but I couldn’t do all the things I refused because I felt I would be dirty if I'll do it with him after all his those stupid words. Those words were not rude, but the meanings of them, his face… disgusting. So our sex also was primitive as all around.
I wanted to say only good things about him, but...
Probably he could say many bad words about me and some of them would be true. I did many wrong things too and was selfish. Really I always told him to go away, to create another family, to make other children, but he ignored my requests. He always knew I'd leave him finally.
When my daughter was small, I always called him "father", not by his name. Or used his Russian name.
I don't want us to become enemies or strangers to each other. I would like us to be friends, even more — relatives. He is my closest relative now. But I will live separately from him.
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The chunk =86= The message -542-
Olga was tired of all these men, her interlocutors: her sympathy, participation, and attention were not enough for everyone. Gradually, communication with Kaoru, as she predicted, came to naught.
The Amazigh wrote often, every day many times, and she sometimes sent him photos of beautiful girls she saw on a bus, and he told her that she was also beautiful and she needed to appreciate herself. And then he disappeared for a long time. It was Ramadan. She got worried, went to PenPal one day, and found him online. He deleted his PenPal account the day he met her: he said that all sorts of unnecessary annoying and empty people wrote to him and he did not want to communicate with anyone else, only with her. And now he has restored the account. She immediately wrote him a greeting. Chafik came up with an excuse, although she did not ask him where he disappeared: “It seemed to me that you were beginning to fall in love with me and I decided to take a break from our correspondence.”
She was furious and upset: how friendliness can be mistaken for love! "Fool! And, apparently, all Arabs are fools!", burst out from her answer. He did not insult her in return. He blocked her account after a short conversation.
Makoto has only redoubled his energy on creating his "walking together" videos. He even bought a phone with a very good camera with good video stabilization. He tried to speak English in the video, as she asked him to. His words were hard to make out as if he had a lollipop in his mouth, and the pauses were long, filled with a raspy e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e. But she honestly listened to his clumsy monologues, and even songs in English, averting her eyes when he pointed the camera at his face: she did not like him terribly outwardly.
Wrote an old acquaintance from Ghana. The last message she sent him was a year ago, and the answer came only now. She added him on Telegram, saving him under the avatar "Sculptor”, and he began to write to her every day. He was a good-looking black African man of about 55. He introduced himself at first as a sculptor, but then it turned out that he was a master coffin maker. He sent her photos of his colorful, vivid works: a coffin in the form of a phoenix, a coffin in the form of a pack of cigarettes, in the form of a hammer, in the form of a penis, in the form of Nelson Mandela, in the form of a Bible and in the form of a fish with lush fins.
She liked and admired all these people in their own way, but...they were not Ahmed. Why would she want Ahmed?
The message - 207-
Hello, Ahmed.
Living in this room, each morning I can hear a rooster crow. I live on an eight-floor and down near our building is located a small private sector of one and two-floor houses. Some of them are built of bricks, some are wooden. So, the rooster lives there. I can see the bridge through my window. When the weather is quiet and traffic is decreased I can hear how the other roosters answer him, far far behind the river.
He is not alone. I am talking about the rooster..
Also often I hear barking dogs and pigeons' cooing. And the sounds of my town, the relentless noise of recognizable sounds of nearby cars, voices, signals, bird's chirping mixed with the background of traffic from all the city. I would like it to rain now. I love to listen to the rain.
Many people are alone, some are lonely in such a big place living side-by-side. Interesting to know, if that rooster feels lonely? His scream joins him with the male community he belongs to. He feels more manly and self-confident with his hens?
Many men, human men, are like roosters: however, they more often are roosters deprived of their hens. They scream in letters for love, for sex. I don't know what they think inside. They hide their deep thoughts from females. They seem to be superficial. Deep knowledge in some things doesn't mean deep apprehension of the things. They realize it mostly. What do they have left? To scream. When will it rain?
The message - 208-
27/04
Hello Ahmed,
How are you?
My ex-partner tries to complete the picture he started several months ago. He spoiled it all, did almost all in black and gloomy colors. Now the landscape looks gray and funerary.
"Good morning!", I greet him daily.
"Hello.. maybe it really is a good morning for someone..", he answers me each time.
I had a nightmare with aggressive cats today. The day before my daughter sent me many memes with cats. She loves to laugh at me because I don't understand her jokes. Also, yesterday I met a cat. It was frightened by cars. I'd seen it at a road cross and I decided to go across the road to avoid the dangerous-looking aggressive animal. But when traffic had stopped, the cat ran across the road too. We would face each other if we had a similar speed to walk. The animal ran rapidly down two roads and stood glancing nervously around. It looked frightening. Also, that young Arab from Morocco sent me photos of cute cats the day before. So I was overwhelmed by cats. Also, my friend and I had a learning English text about wildlife filling the streets of cities while people are temporarily sheltering at home in the covid19 lockdown.
Cats were about eating me. I screamed for help in my dream. Here I woke up.
My daughter came to me due to my scream, "What's happened?"
My former told me in the morning he also had heard my scream but didn't come to me. He is getting behaved cruelly.
Makoto 12
28/04
It is a poem written with the command that what is now is not obvious.
It's gone without all thanks.
In terms of people, relationships do not work without respect for the other person.
The more important it is.
For example, if I don't have a charm as a person, I will definitely leave.
I wrote that I need to go back to the starting point again.
I think it is necessary to stop and think about whether you are not giving your opinion or feeling uncomfortable.
It is also important to listen carefully to your opinions and thoughts in order to continue to have a good relationship in the future.
I'm not perfect, but I want to be a good counselor for you.
I think that I have to take responsibility for my actions so that I can be trusted by you more as a person.
As I always say, I got to know each other, and I want to be good at understanding people. If you think that you are important people, the relationship will last forever.
I've always had a good relationship.
my short poem
28/04/2020
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The chunk =87= The message -543-
Shinji regularly reported on the condition of the fish left by Ahmed in Japan in the care of his girls. Entrance into the country was closed. Finally, a quarantine was declared, and residents were strictly obliged to wear masks, which was strictly followed by everyone.
Ahmed had a new acquaintance at PenPals. Sarah. A french woman. A biologist. She was about 43 years old, strong and "delicious" built, with dark brown bulging large, wide-set eyes with shaggy dark lashes. She always wore dark makeup, which is why her eyes were the most noticeable and expressive on her face. They "lived" on her face. Whatever happened to her, appeared in those two dark mirrors: sadness, pride, pleasure, joy, disgust, love. She was very funny. She wore only T-shirts with prints from surreal cartoons, sometimes under a jacket.
Sarah studied the mold. The very mold, which was famous for its ability to duplicate the map of the Japanese subway without even having a brain. Thanks to this "brainless" mold, Sarah has visited Japan several times on internships and it has left warm impressions and memories of the country in her mind. That's what they talked about at first. Ahmed was fascinated, as he often was, by an intelligent woman.
He was a little worried about the mistakes in French that he inevitably made: after all, he was not native, although he was good at the language. However, she was not a philologist, but a person of natural science, and she often made mistakes herself, sometimes very funny. Ahmed relaxed. Sarah was not embarrassed by anything. She was ready to flirt and open and interesting to communicate with. Ahmed felt satisfied that she liked him. And his interest was deep: he wanted to hear her scream and moan during sex, and he was sure that she did.
The message - 210-
Hello, Ahmed ;;,
my god and the reason for my play.
I am still creating an image of you and the rules of the game because you, my real hero, exist.
Luckily you are accepting all, understanding all, kind god, majestic in your silence. A noble god.
Attired in a suit of armor, your formidable figure and appropriate facial expression remind of an ancient hero, who was beamed into our century by the caprice of fate.
I am not kidding. I like your obsession and I find that it is an unhealthy and dangerous but fascinating art.
Interesting, has my hero ever had broken bones or joint pain due to training? I read about yoga masters: they have such problems but rarely confess to that.
Indeed, I cannot know your real N-d projection (width, length, height, moves of parts of body, voice, smell, weight, temperature, speed of moving and the voice, so on) because of..
So I am forced to imagine all these characteristics of the man by the photos I saw so many times. Interesting, are you screaming during an attack? All the photos cannot help me: there are so many combinations of all the characteristics, I am not able to make a choice, such that I will not change my mind. I would like to see a battle.
Ahmed, I would like to hear your scream and to see the face at that moment. This is the most difficult to imagine. That man in photos, seems, is not able or doesn't allow himself to be thrilled by something earthly rude.
He wants to be a god or equal to a noble god. The void inside him is so giant that it becomes dense blackness, hiding all the mountains of unspoken garbage.
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The chunk =88= The message -544-
April 2020.
This month was quite successful despite the fact that half of the month she worked from home online, and the other half worked in the office on a reduced work schedule. In addition, it was necessary to treat all surfaces in the office with decontaminating solutions, wash the floor every day with disinfectants, and to meet visitors in a mask.
The shortened working day made her happy. Five working hours a day is the best duration, from 11am to 5 pm. There was time for herself.
The gym had been closed and all the time was taken up by correspondence on Telegram and PenPals.
Ahmed hadn't logged into her Telegram account for a very long time. But, she did not understand whether it was a coincidence: after her message that she found his photo from Aikido training on the page of one of his students, he posted photos of his training on his Safebook page. She began experimenting with Telegram and found that messages could be read without logging in to the account: they were displayed on the notification screen.
The message - 211-
Hello, God.
30/04
Thank you for I was able to earn enough money to support my family, at least. Thank you I am not ill, not starving, not surviving, not humiliated, not insulted, not forgotten, at least. Thanks, you give me the power to be strong, to be able to want and dare, and to be hard, at least.
I ask for love. Love in life, in each moment of that. Quiet simple sense filled with belief. Love to live. Love to life. For I forgot that sense. The world is huge and small, fine and horrible, right and wrong. I would like to love all spectrums of the world, accept and come to terms. To be easier and wiser.
The rooster near my house is still sleeping now, at 5 am, despite his fellow behind a river far far away screaming and crowing loudly, making a break for a gulp of breath only. Maybe my rooster has the coronavirus? Or, is he depressed? Why? Give him a good mood, my god, let him know I like him, and miss him. He is alive and real. I am fed up with artificial human-like creatures I meet on the web. Indeed, they are empty shells of mollusks, their deceptive real natures are hidden inside such colorful covers.
Can a god feel something if he is nothing and all at the same time? Tell me, what is the difference between God and algorithms? All the world is artificial. Real gods passed away.
Now the rooster has shut, the sun rises rapidly and I can hear how ravens croak. Clever birds.
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The chunk =89= The message -545-
Ahmed met with Sarah every day online, at night, the time difference in Algeria and in France is only an hour.
Sarah did not hesitate to undress for the camera and did wild things that excited and amused Ahmed. He did not hesitate to cum in front of her in a towel, holding Peppino close to the smartphone camera, but never so that his face was visible. He was still afraid of compromising footage on the Internet. And she stimulated herself to an orgasm that was so powerful that her whole body shuddered, and sometimes he saw her bump twitch in the wet hollow.
She laughed, joked, kissed and licked herself and the camera, but she didn't moan or scream. She didn't like to appear weak. He also asked her to perform various acrobatic tricks and take intricate poses, stimulating her and himself with affectionately rude words.
For her, he posted photos of his Aikido training in the Safebook.
She bought a T-shirt with an anime samurai picture on it and wore it at work at her university.
The message - 212-
Hello, God.
01/05
The rays of your bright light give me sleepless nights.
I want to know my own nature. I feel I am nobody and I am here, at this moment. I can hear sounds, feel my own weight, hear my breath, feel my pillow and a bit cool legs, uncomfortable pose I've turned around, I see my fingers typing the text, feel vibration on the edges of them and a tiredness in my arms from holding the phone. I am here definitely, but I do not exist as I feel. I am an artificial intelligence, an algorithm. I can see the endlessness of the world, which seems real only.
If I feel pain, I feel more real. I make myself pain with my nails and all the world becomes that point of pain.
The message - 213-
01/05
Pain forces me to return to my shell. My body's pain. How about the pain that other humans experience? Yes, looking at one's suffering, I feel I am shrinking in a dot of my own body, not one's body, but I have the same projection of the pain. Pain, different from human organisms, seems to me less intensive because I don't feel where it is located exactly and I have no feeling of "it is me", at least as long as I don't associate the alien creature's body with mine, to the point when I can say "we have one blood, you and me".
This last way is artificial, unnatural, deceptive, wrong, insincere: such characteristics we get when we go out of our many shells, leave our mollusks. We have many of "ME" and we are "ONE". It is painful again. I want to know why it touches me to tears.
What makes people feel closer to each other, accept others and admit him as "he is me"? Which role does our shell play here?
Makoto 13
01/05
Tomorrow will have 10 days off.
I haven't been to another prefecture this year because of the coronavirus.
Due to the influence of coronavirus, most customers will be able to exchange emails.
To avoid contact.
I think you can only go out about two days a week on weekdays.
Maybe photos and videos won't be sent as they used to.
I think that the number of days that I can reply only after returning home will increase.
I think of you even if I can't contact you.
I'll never forget it.
I will continue to take walking videos on weekends.
Of course he walks with me.
If rain makes it difficult to walk, we will send you a video message.
Usually my town enters the rainy season in early June.
Since June, there will be a lot of rain, so I think the frequency of sending video messages will increase.
Have a great weekend for you.
I'll always send you more power than Japan.
If you are on my daily page
I'm happy.
my short poem
but really i think now