Slowly I am working my way through the bug. Everything I discover is bad and that it how I feel about it.
Yet I don’t have that much time to search for the bug: I promised to cook soups for the last three presentations of Brecht's “The Life of the Master Race” by K-Orchestra during the festival "Premier Pas/Enfants des troupes" at the Cartoucherie. Arianne Mouchkine initiated the idea a long time ago to serve a dish associated with a play - Franck Pendino, the director from K-Orchestra asked for my expertise being German. After some back and forth I've learnt, that finaly they were left without a dedicated German dish, and I contacted them again: simply because I liked the idea so much. For nothing else than the fun of it. But to me a committement is a committement. And indeed, it was a funny experience! 3kg lentils, 2 kg carrots, 2kg leek, 2kg onions, 2 celeries, 750 g bacon and 24 smoked sausages - salt and cayenne pepper – 50 servings! I’ve never cooked so huge quantities and it worked out – it was sold out every evening! Arianne Mouchkine complimented me on top of it, while sitting with her laptop in the kitchen working. It was such a warm and cosy experience, like when I did my homework in the kitchen while my mother was cooking.
The idea of this festival, is, that besides for companies presenting their first work, to have them to take care of everything concerning the festival. So every day someone different helped cutting all the vegetables. Azziz and Ali overlooked and organized everything concerning the cooking. Stories of refugees from Afganistan. And a discreet glass of mulled wine with Ali before the soups went out to the bar.
It’s wonderful to work in a kitchen, to prepare food, to taste until it’s right, to share it with people around, to do something concret – and when it goes out, you know it’s done, it’s fine (well, nearly). The rush to be ready in time, with a lot of concentration, and then, this satisfied fatigue. Not like a program. Those bites back.
And I watched the play once more, what do I find in Brecht’s text, in the most moving sceen of the Jewish wife, deciding to leave Berlin, deciding to leave her husband: “You are able to understand quantum theory, but you let yourself command by brutes. You are monsters, no, the servants of monsters.”
But nothing without a hick-up: someone kicked in my car and spit on it. Why?
It is the second bump this week, after a scooter hit my car on Tuesday. Looks like a doomed period for me and my car. I just hate the idea to go back to a garage and I don't want to spent another couple of hundrends of euros, before the first bill is even paid. It's hard to abandon the belive in cosmic justice.
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