Natalia Mela, Une force de la nature
THE SUN, THE DECK, THE BREEZE... Resting on two deck-chairs, two elderly ladies gaze at the sea. Peace. There aren't any other deck-chairs. There aren't any other ladies. There is only one ship, the familiar one. Its cargo is merely our lives — so lengthy! The gliding waves have already drawn away our 80 years - or maybe 85? It's all right. It's no one's fault. It doesn't matter, smaller or greater ailments are forgotten under our woollen blankets. With chatting. With being able to talk. Isn't that what you want, isn't that what I want? What we have always done.
Since when have we been doing this, Natalia? Imagine – since '43! Since the War, in Tombro's studio at the School of Fine Arts!... I'm uneasy. I suddenly wonder. A nagging suspicion. Indeed, how well do we know each other? All we have been through, the things we have done, said, forgotten, everything we've never known all those years... The winter sun, the sea, perhaps even age have whirled everything round. I have a frantic need to know.....