Toate experientele demne de pastrat in geamantanul cu amintiri incep de la ”ce-ar fi daca?”. Ce-ar fi daca am scrie un roman de dragoste care debuteaza cu doar doi actori pe strazile Parisului si doi naratori-martor? Ce-ar fi daca ar lipsi zgomotul asurzitor cu care incep de obicei astfel de romane? Daca ar ramane doar esenta, ca dupa o decantare de impuritatile lui ”asa se face”?
El este Daniel. Gandeste si lucreaza in limbaj de 0 si 1. Ea este Livia. Iubeste mult, iar cartile bune ii provoaca insomnii pana la ultima pagina. El este Paris. E incantator din zorii primei dimineti petrecute impreuna, pana la miezul noptii, cand devine magic.
Cei doi si-au impachetat frumos inimile pana au incaput in cate o scrisoare pe care si-au daruit-o unul altuia. Turnul Eiffel a stat martor bucuriei lor. Curiosi deja?
All the experiences worthy of keeping in the suitcase with memories start from “what if?”. What if we wrote a love novel that starts with only two actors on the streets of Paris and two narrators-witnesses? What if the deafening noise with which such novels usually begin would be missing? If only the essence remained, like after a decantation of the impurities of “this is how it should be done”?
He is Daniel. He thinks and works in 0 and 1 language. She is Livia. She loves a lot, and good books cause her insomnia until the last page. This is Paris. It’s delightful from the dawn of the first morning spent together, until midnight when it becomes magical.
The two of them packed their hearts nicely until they fit in a letter they gave to each other. The Eiffel Tower witnessed their joy. Curious already?
“Look! There is no city like this in the world. There never was.”
“If I’d stayed here and written novels…”
“- You act like you’ve never been here before.
– I don’t get here often enough. That’s the problem!”
“- Can you picture how drop dead gorgeous this city is in the rain?
This is where Monet lived and painted. Imagine the two of us settling here.”
“- You’re in love with a fantasy.
– I’m in love with you!”
“I can never decide whether Paris is more beautiful by day or by night.”
“And there was evening, and there was morning – the second day in Paris.”
“I mean, could you ever picture us maybe moving here after we’re married?”
WOODY ALLEN – MIDNIGHT IN PARIS