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Bittersweet Romance in a Bottle - The End of the Story of 4ajbukoshka and the Italian
I believe in nothing anymore
I feel no good
I move forward but I don’t know if I will see tomorrow!
[...]
“Non va come vorrei!”
- Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes you fail
Sometimes you live, sometimes you die
Sometimes you live the lives of others.
Little dramas...
(I believe in nothing anymore, I feel no good. I make progress, but I don’t know if I will see tomorrow!
[...]
“Nothing goes the way I want it!”
- Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes you fail, sometimes you live, sometimes you die,
sometimes you live the lives of others.
Little dramas...”
Lous and the Yakuza together with Sfera Ebbasta - Je ne sais pas. Translation by 4ajbukoshka, whose Italian is still anything but perfect and who, much to her dismay - and that of everyone who has to listen to her - is still incredibly and unhappily in love.)
Little dramas?
Big drama!
“Drama? That’s MY keyword!” Miss Hopelessly Romantic-4ajbukoshka must have thought when she agreed to the non-date date with the Italian after months of silence.
She had already run into him for the second time within a week - on Wednesday. Is he stalking her? She would probably still be happy about it in his case.
Actually, she is still angry with him, his departure, and the fact that he didn’t even apologize for his behavior.
Not without reason did 4ajbukoshka’s good friend turn Don Gelato into Don Giovanni and then Cacasotto and advised her never to let him breathe in her direction again.
Now, however, 4ajbukoshka once again stands in front of her wardrobe with the big question of what to wear. During the day, she had worn a white summer dress in Marilyn Monroe style with light blue sneakers and pink shoelaces and a white platform. Since it somehow feels wrong to show up in a white dress for a non-date date and because it’s already evening and cold, she wants to change. But none of the dresses in her closet feels right. Not even a pair of pants.
Well. Since her nose works better than her eyes and it is much more important to her how other people smell than how they look or are dressed, Signorina Tschajbudummkopfkoshka wanders over to her little treasure chest. She doesn’t have much choice.
The abrupt ringing of the doorbell pulls her out of her thoughts.
Before she can think “oh damn, is it already that late?!” or “since when is the guy actually on time?!”, Signor Heartbreaker has appeared at the apartment door and is already knocking.
Signorina Tschajbukoshka blindly grabs one of the samples and sprays away. She hasn’t changed either. “Bliiiin!”, she curses quietly to herself as she hops to the door with one shoe on, accompanied by a smoky scent.
“Oh dear. Of all things!” crosses her mind before she thinks of a spicy dessert. The ‘affordable’ version of a wedding perfume, she recognizes the scent that wafts around her head on the way to the door. Rarely have 50m2 felt so large and the path through the apartment felt so long.
She opens the door and is sure: even the thousandth time, she would still have a little heart attack at this sight.
There he stands, tall, his hair shaved short on the sides and curly in the middle, incredibly handsome with a smile that could melt the polar caps faster than one can shout “climate protection!”
If he could just quickly take care of little Italians before they leave. Of course.
Instead of changing, Signorina now uses the time to pack some food for the ride and think about her outfit choice including perfume. “Stay positive. Stay calm! Law of attraction. Self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe this is a sign and this will be the best day of your life, hahaha.” She, who is actually more of the Murphy’s law type, tries to mentally prepare for a successful outing.
What does she have to lose?
After Signor Goodlooking has admired her new apartment and the little artworks, she grabs her (art) leather jacket and slides down the banister in front of him.
It’s a wonderful evening with plenty of sweet snacks, because Greedy4ajbukoshka has once again struck and thrown the diet overboard (and therefore has candied almonds with powdered sugar in her bag), conversations that, as always, take place at what feels like 100 decibels, and never-ending discussions about who is right and who isn’t and which language is the most beautiful or even the most beautiful in the world - Russian or Italian (Italian, of course, so says the Italian, the Russian-speaking part holds back, as he or she doesn’t know all the languages of the world and instead names those languages that are NOT).
It’s almost as if the last few months never existed, everything familiar like the vanilla that gently floats in the room, and yet terribly exciting.
Well... almost.
Because this time, there’s no kiss at the end, just a broken heart and a 4ajbukoshka who will spend the next months sadly hopelessly hopeful reminiscing, pouring herself half a glass of red wine for the moment, and dancing through the apartment on tiptoes in her socks.
Around her, the sweet scent of hope and “Le plus beau jour de ma vie”.
Maybe, one day, this will actually become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Mantieni il bacio
Oltre l'errore del tempo
Fanne qualcosa di eterno
Non lasciarne cadere neanche solo un frammento
Come polvere sul pavimento
Non staccare le labbra neanche un solo secondo
E non farti distrarre dal rumore di fondo
Perché alla fine ogni volta
È l'amore che ci salva
Dalla ferita del mondo...
(Michele Bravi - Mantieni il bacio (Keep the Kiss) - in case someone wants to translate it themselves)
I feel no good
I move forward but I don’t know if I will see tomorrow!
[...]
“Non va come vorrei!”
- Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes you fail
Sometimes you live, sometimes you die
Sometimes you live the lives of others.
Little dramas...
(I believe in nothing anymore, I feel no good. I make progress, but I don’t know if I will see tomorrow!
[...]
“Nothing goes the way I want it!”
- Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes you fail, sometimes you live, sometimes you die,
sometimes you live the lives of others.
Little dramas...”
Lous and the Yakuza together with Sfera Ebbasta - Je ne sais pas. Translation by 4ajbukoshka, whose Italian is still anything but perfect and who, much to her dismay - and that of everyone who has to listen to her - is still incredibly and unhappily in love.)
Little dramas?
Big drama!
“Drama? That’s MY keyword!” Miss Hopelessly Romantic-4ajbukoshka must have thought when she agreed to the non-date date with the Italian after months of silence.
She had already run into him for the second time within a week - on Wednesday. Is he stalking her? She would probably still be happy about it in his case.
Actually, she is still angry with him, his departure, and the fact that he didn’t even apologize for his behavior.
Not without reason did 4ajbukoshka’s good friend turn Don Gelato into Don Giovanni and then Cacasotto and advised her never to let him breathe in her direction again.
Now, however, 4ajbukoshka once again stands in front of her wardrobe with the big question of what to wear. During the day, she had worn a white summer dress in Marilyn Monroe style with light blue sneakers and pink shoelaces and a white platform. Since it somehow feels wrong to show up in a white dress for a non-date date and because it’s already evening and cold, she wants to change. But none of the dresses in her closet feels right. Not even a pair of pants.
Well. Since her nose works better than her eyes and it is much more important to her how other people smell than how they look or are dressed, Signorina Tschajbudummkopfkoshka wanders over to her little treasure chest. She doesn’t have much choice.
The abrupt ringing of the doorbell pulls her out of her thoughts.
Before she can think “oh damn, is it already that late?!” or “since when is the guy actually on time?!”, Signor Heartbreaker has appeared at the apartment door and is already knocking.
Signorina Tschajbukoshka blindly grabs one of the samples and sprays away. She hasn’t changed either. “Bliiiin!”, she curses quietly to herself as she hops to the door with one shoe on, accompanied by a smoky scent.
“Oh dear. Of all things!” crosses her mind before she thinks of a spicy dessert. The ‘affordable’ version of a wedding perfume, she recognizes the scent that wafts around her head on the way to the door. Rarely have 50m2 felt so large and the path through the apartment felt so long.
She opens the door and is sure: even the thousandth time, she would still have a little heart attack at this sight.
There he stands, tall, his hair shaved short on the sides and curly in the middle, incredibly handsome with a smile that could melt the polar caps faster than one can shout “climate protection!”
If he could just quickly take care of little Italians before they leave. Of course.
Instead of changing, Signorina now uses the time to pack some food for the ride and think about her outfit choice including perfume. “Stay positive. Stay calm! Law of attraction. Self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe this is a sign and this will be the best day of your life, hahaha.” She, who is actually more of the Murphy’s law type, tries to mentally prepare for a successful outing.
What does she have to lose?
After Signor Goodlooking has admired her new apartment and the little artworks, she grabs her (art) leather jacket and slides down the banister in front of him.
It’s a wonderful evening with plenty of sweet snacks, because Greedy4ajbukoshka has once again struck and thrown the diet overboard (and therefore has candied almonds with powdered sugar in her bag), conversations that, as always, take place at what feels like 100 decibels, and never-ending discussions about who is right and who isn’t and which language is the most beautiful or even the most beautiful in the world - Russian or Italian (Italian, of course, so says the Italian, the Russian-speaking part holds back, as he or she doesn’t know all the languages of the world and instead names those languages that are NOT).
It’s almost as if the last few months never existed, everything familiar like the vanilla that gently floats in the room, and yet terribly exciting.
Well... almost.
Because this time, there’s no kiss at the end, just a broken heart and a 4ajbukoshka who will spend the next months sadly hopelessly hopeful reminiscing, pouring herself half a glass of red wine for the moment, and dancing through the apartment on tiptoes in her socks.
Around her, the sweet scent of hope and “Le plus beau jour de ma vie”.
Maybe, one day, this will actually become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Mantieni il bacio
Oltre l'errore del tempo
Fanne qualcosa di eterno
Non lasciarne cadere neanche solo un frammento
Come polvere sul pavimento
Non staccare le labbra neanche un solo secondo
E non farti distrarre dal rumore di fondo
Perché alla fine ogni volta
È l'amore che ci salva
Dalla ferita del mondo...
(Michele Bravi - Mantieni il bacio (Keep the Kiss) - in case someone wants to translate it themselves)
Translated · Show original
11 Comments
A heart of candied almonds in powdered sugar. At first, though, I notice something smoky and spicy before it becomes one of the most beautiful days ^^.