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Apziņa — izgaismota seja no atvērtas grāmatas lapām43 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Man atslēgas

Latviešu valodā · 5:30 · MP3

No albuma “Apziņa”. Pie loga klauvē doma. Tā ienāk kā viešņa, apsēžas un grib noteikt visu. Šoreiz es palieku savā vietā. Varu uzklausīt balsi, neatdodot tai savas atslēgas.

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Apziņa — izgaismota seja no atvērtas grāmatas lapām46 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Mūsu gals

Latviešu valodā · 5:10 · MP3

No albuma “Apziņa”. Uz krēsla palikusi jaka. Telefons klusē. Es jau rakstu beigas, kaut saruna nav sākusies. Tad pamanu: lielā ēna uz sienas rodas no pavisam mazas lietas.

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Apziņa — izgaismota seja no atvērtas grāmatas lapām51 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Prāts — jūra

Latviešu valodā · 4:50 · MP3

No albuma “Apziņa”. Jūra vēl kustas. Vecie stāsti paliek grāmatā, bet roka atgriežas pie stūres. Nav jāgaida pilnīgs bezvējš, lai izvēlētos virzienu. Šeit albums beidzas. Tavs stāsts turpinās.

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The Life I Invented — vāka attēls155 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

The Life I Invented

In English · 5:25 · MP3

At the café I was halfway through telling them how I had found our old house by following the smell of coal smoke. It always got a laugh. A woman in a wet coat stopped beside my chair. She hadn't taken her gloves off. “Turn it over,” she said. On the back of the photograph, in the blue pencil my sister used for everything, was a bus number and an address.

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Happiness for the Photograph — vāka attēls156 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Happiness for the Photograph

In English · 5:05 · MP3

Mum had an album with a thistle stamped into the leather. On Sunday we took a fresh picture for it. Dad set the timer, jumped the cable and landed beside us hard enough to bounce me off the sofa. For one second all three of us were laughing at the same thing. The little lamp on the camera was still blinking.

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Love with an Imagined You — vāka attēls157 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Love with an Imagined You

In English · 5:12 · MP3

I used to bring her roses and Earl Grey because she had once pressed a rose into a book I lent her. I knew which page. I could have drawn the brown stem from memory. When she began to tell me what it was doing there, I kissed the top of her head and went to fetch the cups.

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Another’s Dream in My Handwriting — vāka attēls160 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Another’s Dream in My Handwriting

In English · 5:10 · MP3

On the night of the award, a waiter lent Mara a pen for the thank-you book. The lettering on the gold plaque looked remarkably like her school certificates. She could see her father crouched beside the desk, guiding her narrow M with one broad finger. When somebody nudged her to write, she signed the name before the thought arrived.

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An Edited Childhood — vāka attēls161 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

An Edited Childhood

In English · 5:34 · MP3

The girl in the photograph was holding both arms out in a field. At every birthday somebody said she had been trying to fly. This time the girl was thirty-eight and had brought the cake. She rested the knife on her plate. “I was measuring the distance between the scarecrow and the gate,” she said. “I was frightened to go past it.”

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Hero of His Own Tales — vāka attēls162 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Hero of His Own Tales

In English · 4:24 · MP3

Every time Emil told the flooded-cellar story he was the boy who went down the steps. His brother was the boy who stood outside shouting. At the kitchen table one evening Emil laid a hand on his chest to tell it again. On the wall the shadow of that hand was nearly as large as his brother's head.

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Windows No One Lives Behind — vāka attēls163 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Windows No One Lives Behind

In English · 5:50 · MP3

From the pavement she could recognise their flat by the two lamps. Upstairs there would be water in the jug, forks in their places, and a man who would ask about her day with his eyes on the kettle. Tonight he was standing by the window. She lifted the shopping bag in the old signal for I've forgotten my keys.

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Wealth on Loan — vāka attēls164 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Wealth on Loan

In English · 3:17 · MP3

By the time the waiter brought the bill, Adrian had paid for the evening three times in his head. In one version he sold the watch. In another he returned the coat. While his friends debated a bottle of wine, he was working out how long the lights could stay on at home.

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I Know What They'll Think — vāka attēls165 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

I Know What They'll Think

In English · 4:24 · MP3

Every morning she wrote the name of the place she wanted to work and struck it out. She could hear the courtyard giving its opinion. The man with the bicycle would ask what had got into her. The woman watering the geraniums would remind her of her age. On Friday she ran out of clean paper.

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Conversations Without You — vāka attēls166 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Conversations Without You

In English · 5:15 · MP3

For six months I kept your chair facing mine. I made you remarkably good at apologising. By the time the kettle boiled you always came round to my point of view. One wet evening my upstairs neighbour knocked. She wanted to borrow a chair for her boy's birthday supper. I nearly said the seat was taken.

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We're Doing Fine — vāka attēls167 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

We're Doing Fine

In English · 3:53 · MP3

At supper everybody asked the same question and we supplied the same answer. The grown-ups were satisfied. Our son went on cutting his potato into smaller and smaller pieces. On the way home he asked, “When did you practise it?” I turned round in my seat. “Practise what?” “Saying fine together.”

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Witness to My Real Life — vāka attēls168 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Witness to My Real Life

In English · 4:24 · MP3

Nobody had called him Pip since the summer they carried milk upstairs before school. At conferences he introduced himself with both initials. Now Leo was saying “Pip” across a café table, pushing out a chair with his foot. Rain had worked its way down the back of his collar. He was glad of an excuse to look at the floor.

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A Little Lie with a Big Family — vāka attēls169 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

A Little Lie with a Big Family

In English · 4:50 · MP3

Ben was born on a Tuesday because I had missed the train on Monday. By Thursday he had a cousin who drove a van. By Sunday I knew the colour of the van, the size of the dent in its door and which side of Mill Lane the cousins had grown up on. All you had asked was why I came home late.

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Confess and Stay — vāka attēls170 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Confess and Stay

In English · 4:38 · MP3

When he finished telling her, the only sound in the room was the electric kettle overfilling its base with steam. He wanted to go and switch it off. He wanted a job involving a cloth and both hands. Instead he let his fingers uncurl from his cuff and waited.

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An Ordinary Day Without a Legend — vāka attēls171 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

An Ordinary Day Without a Legend

In English · 3:43 · MP3

There was a patch of lifting wallpaper behind his chair. On bad mornings he saw a tall man there, shoulders back, about to do something worth telling people. Today, with the room full of flat November light, he could see where somebody had pasted a second strip over the first.

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Invent a Song, Live a Life — vāka attēls172 / JUZH

Jurijs Zarkovs

Invent a Song, Live a Life

In English · 4:05 · MP3

In his coat pocket the old music box could play one whole tune if you turned the handle steadily enough. He played it at the table. Somebody asked about his journey home. For a moment he could see the ship he usually invented, every sail up against a sky the colour of tea. He put the box down. “Walked. The bus had gone.”

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