MÄRKMED KORTERIST
06. juuli 2022
Eilne külaskäik korterisse. Korter paistis olevat remondis. Põrandal oli ehituspaber. Pahemat kätt jäi kaks ust, küllap vannituba ja WC, millel näis olevat selles töös ebaoluline otstarve. Paremat kätt jäi lauatelefon, kuhu külastajad helistama peavad, et sisse pääseda. Pisut edasi kõndides tuli keerata vasakule, et jõuda kööki. Köök oli kitsas, pikliku kujuga. Tänava suhtes rööbiti. Ka aken oli piklik. Vaade avanes Selverile. Aknale oli kinnitatud vana kopsuröntgeni pilt, mis vist pärines 2000ndate algusest. Midagi muud ma köögist ei mäleta.
Pilt köögist on abstraktne. Seal oli pisut segadust aga ma ei suuda seda artikuleerida. Need asjad, mis köögilaual olid, eksisteerivad mu mälus, ent nende tähendused ei ole jõudnud veel välja areneda.
Köögi ja koridori vahepeale jäi kapp, millele kirjutatud “Forget”. Sees Jan Kausi ja Sander Saarmetsa samanimeline video, mis tol päeval veel ei töötanud.
Tol päeval kõndisin ma koridorist otse elutuppa. Seal oli töötav grammofon, mis tegi kummalist, natuke kõledat heli. Meenub, et ka Inga Saluranna installatsiooni heli oli kõle, samas rahustav. Keset tuba oli rohekas-kuldne tugitool. Sellel oli valge padi punase täpiga, mis võis olla vereplekk. Nagu keegi oleks padja sisse verd köhinud. Sümbolina oli see padi kindlasti traumaatiline. Tugitooli kõrval lauakesel (või mingil muul alusel) oli Pereci raamat “Ruumiliigid”. Raamatut ümbritsesid kulunud olemisega suhkrutükid. Ja vist ukse küljest ära võetud plastmassist korterinumber “34”.
Selles oli midagi kurba. Justkui tähistataks kellegi sünnipäeva. Või siis surmapäeva. Kellegi, kes elas vaid 34 aastaseks. Pereci raamatu ja suhkrutükkidega püütakse leevendada valu. Ja verd köhitakse padja sisse. Ühtlasi panin tähele, et laest rippus alla niit. Justkui oleks keegi niidi abil harjutanud silmuse tegemist. Aknalaual olid surnud liblikatest järele jäänud tiivad. Keegi oli püüdnud nendega kunagi lennata. Nende kõrval oli vana pildialbum, milles polnud ühtegi pilti. Kui lasin albumi kaanel vabalt kukkuda, lendasid liblikatiivad minema.
Elutoa vastas oli üks tuba, mis minu jaoks kehastas askeesi ja kannatusi. Sisse astudes jäi vasakut kätt kellegi magamisase. Madrats oli erakordselt õhuke – kas see üldse oligi madrats? Teki asemel oli lina. Padi võis isegi olla aga väiksem või õhem kui see vereplekiga isend seal elutoas. Seina ääres, paremat kätt, põrandal olid mingid ebemed, mis olid tekkinud sellest, et seinale oli kritseldatud “IM MEMORIAM”. Kas keegi või miski oli seal korteris ikkagi surnud? Vastasseinas, magamisasemest pisut edasi, oli hulk krohvi seina küljest lahti kangutatud. See vedeles tükkidena maas ja kivist või paneelist sein irvitas avalisui.
Edasi kõndides pääses rõdule, kust sai vaadata, kuidas maja taha paigaldatakse kiike. Käepidemeteks metalltorud, istumise all betoon, millele oli graveeritud midagi, mis pidi tähendama ukraina keeles vabadust. Betooni raiutud vabadus. Kiik tagaaias.
Tagasi esikusse kõndides jõudis viimasesse tuppa, või siis kõige esimesse, kui esikust oleks taibanud kohe paremale pöörata. Selles toas oli klaasist laud, millele oli asetatud vana räbaldunud kaart Rakvere ümbrusest. Selle teisele poolele oli midagi kirjutatud ja selleks, et lugeda, tuli kaarti kattev paber eemaldada ja siis laua alla pikali heita. Kaardi taga oli käsikirjas tekst, kus keegi sakslaste poolel sõdinud sõdur rääkis, kuidas ta 40ndatel ühelt haava tud mehelt selle kaardi sai ja oma taskus hoidis. Kuidas see kaart teda aitas. Ühtlasi avaldati lootust, et seda kaarti ei pea jälle vere hinnaga kellelegi edasi andma. Siis korraga nägin teist teksti, sarnase, ent siiski teise energiaga kirjutatud. Seal ütles keegi, et tema on kaardi kolmas omanik ja kaart avaldab talle igati head mõju. Mul tekkis sellest kujutluspilt, et lõpuks ikkagi sai keegi vere hinnaga kaardi endale. Kui kõige alguses oli haavatud mees ja seejärel niiöelda põhitüüp, siis lõpuks ilmus ikkagi välja kolmas. Võibolla venelaste poolel sõdinud sõdur. Samas käekirjad olid sarnased. Ehk polnud siiski kolmandat. Ehk polnud siiski verd.
07. juuli 2022
Eile käisin korteris vaid korraks. Et vaadata Jan Kausi ja Sander Saarmetsa videot “Unusta”. Korteisse jõudes läksin joonelt kappi, kus jõudsin ära vaadata suurema osa videost, kuni mind katkestati ja pidin minema elutuppa. Seal oli muutunud see, et tugitoolil polnud enam vereplekiga patja. Kas oli see teise tuppa viidud, korterist välja visatud või ära peidetud – ei tea.
09. juuli 2022
Ta istub kohvikus ukse lähedal.
Ta joob kohvi nii et paneb suhkrutüki suhu ja joob kohvi peale.
Ja teeb nagu tal oleks mingi tähtis asi ajada.
Olgu, tegelikult kirjutas niimoodi Perec.
Tõde on see, et ta joob kohvi suhkruga, ta ei suitseta aga ta mõtleb oma lugeja peale.
Tal ei ole lugu, mida jutustada, ta elu on alati olnud üks ja seesama.
Üks asi siiski tuleb meelde.
Sama korteri nr 34 uksel. Naabrimees tuli viinapudeliga, nii pudel kui mees olid viina täis, viin hoidis meest püsti. Alkohol oli tema selgroog. Viin viis teda edasi, kui tundus et siin elus pole enam kuhugi minna. Temast õhkus viinahaisu ja ohtu, kuid ta väljendas äärmist alandlikkust.
Ta palus luba järgmisel kohtumisel teretada.
MINU MÄRKUS: see kõik on juba kuskil olnud. Tartu korter ja remont.
Naabrimees Kärdlas ukse taga.
Mäletan maastikke, aga mu enda elu on olnud seal sees nagu tühi tuba.
Paar labast mööblitükki, mida leidub igal pool.
Päev ja öö mis vahelduvad.
Erinevate aastaaegade valgus.
Tapeet, mis tasapisi pleegib..
“Piiririik” Emil Tode
MINU MÄRKUS: elu korteris on nagu kaldapääsukese pesa seest avanev kujutlusvõime impeerium.
NOTES FROM THE APARTMENT
6th of July 2022
Yesterday’s visit to the apartment. It looked like under construction. Floors were covered by industrial paper. On the left hand (in the corridor) there were two doors, probably bathroom and toilet, they seemed to have secondary importance in this piece. To the right there was a table phone, where visitors have to call, in order to get inside. After a few steps you had to turn to the left and you reached the kitchen, which was narrow and thin, parallel with the street. Also the window was oblong, wide. A view to the Selver supermarket. An old (from the early 2000s) X-ray of lungs was attached to the window. That is all I remember about the kitchen. My picture of it is an abstraction. There was a bit of mess but I cannot articulate how it looked, any details. The things on the kitchen table do exist in my memory, while their meanings haven’t unfolded yet. Between the kitchen and the corridor there was a closet. Someone had written “Forget” on it. Inside of it there was a screen that was supposed to show the video “Forget” by Jan Kaus and Sander Saarmets, but in that day it didn’t work yet.
That day I walked directly to the livingroom. There was a gramophone, making a bleak sound. The sound of Inga Salurand’s installation was a bit like this, although it had a soothing effect. In the middle of the room there was an armchair, golden-green. On top of it there was a white pillow with a red dot that might have been blood. As if someone had coughed into the pillow. This pillow was definitely a traumatic symbol. Next to the armchair there was a small table with “Species of Spaces” by Perec. The book was surrounded by elderly sugar cubes. There was also a plastic number “34” that might have been taken away from a door.
Something sad was in it. As if someone’s birthday had been celebrated. Or death day. Of someone who died at 34. Perec’s book and sugar cubes are there to soothe the pain. And blood is being coughed into the pillow. I also noticed a white thread hanging from the ceiling. As if someone had exercised making a loop. On the windowsill I noticed wings, left by dead butterflies. Someone had tried to fly with them once. Next to the wings there was an old photo album with nothing to show. When I let the cover of the album fall, it made a blow and the wings flew away.
Next to the living room there was another room. It seemed to represent asceticism and suffering. As I stepped inside, there was a sleeping place in the left. The mattress was extremely thin, I wasn’t even sure it was a mattress. Instead of blanket, there was bed sheet. The pillow was maybe smaller and thinner than the one with blood on it. To the right, there were some sort of crumbs on the floor, fallen from the wall where someone had scratched “IM MEMORIAM”. Someone must have died there! In the opposite wall, a bit further from the sleeping place, there were pieces of plaster on the floor. And naked wall of concrete or stone was grinning above it. Few steps more and I reached the balcony with a view to the backyard. Two guys were installing a swing. Its handles were made of metal and its base was made of concrete. Something that was supposed to mean “freedom” in Ukrainian was carved into this. Freedom carved into concrete! A swing in the backyard.
Back in the corridor, I stepped into the last room. Or actually the first room, if I would have turned into right immediately after entering the apartment. There was a glass table with an old worn out map. The map of Rakvere’s surroundings. In the other side of the map there was a handwritten text. In order to read it, you had to lay down under the table. The text said that someone (a soldier) got this map from a wounded man and kept it in his pocket in the 1940s. This map had good influence on him. He also wished that this map will not be given to someone else on the expense of blood. But then suddenly I noticed another text, a similar handwriting but written with different energy. It said that someone is the third owner of this map, which has good influence on him. I immediately thought that the worst had happened and blood had been spilled. If in the beginning there was a wounded man and then the main guy, then eventually the third person had appeared. Maybe from the red army. Still, the handwritings were too similar. I hope there was no third guy. I hope there was no blood.
(kommentaar/comment, Tanel Rander, September 2022)
7th of July 2022
Yesterday I came to the apartment just for a moment. To see the video “Forget” of Jan Kaus and Sander Saarmets. When I arrived, I went into the closet immediately, where I watched most of the video. Then I met someone and I needed to go to the living room. Things had changed there. The armchair had no pillow with bloodstain on it anymore. No idea if it had been brought to another room or thrown out.
9th of July 2022
In cafe he sits close to the door.
When he drinks coffee, he puts a sugar cube into his mouth, then takes a sip.
He pretends that he has something important to do.
(Okay, it was Perec)
The truth is that he drinks coffee with sugar, he doesn’t smoke and he thinks about his reader. He has no story to tell, his life has always been one and the same.
One things still comes to his mind...
At the door of the same apartment nr 34 there is a neighbor with a bottle of vodka in his hand. Both the bottle and the man were full of vodka. Vodka helped the man to stand up. Alcohol was his spine. Alcohol brought him further, when he thought there is nowhere to go anymore in this life. He was radiating threat and the smell of vodka. But he expressed extreme humility. He asked permission for saying “Hello” next time.
REMARK: This all has happened somewhere. Tartu apartment and renovation. Neighbor in Kärdla, behind the door.
I remember landscapes, but my own life has been within it like an empty room.
A couple of banal pieces of furniture that you can find everywhere.
Day and night that change.The light of different seasons.
Wallpaper that slowly bleaches.
“Border state” by Emil Tode
REMARK:
life in the apartment is like
that opens up from the nest
of a sand martin.
Kõik selles korteris toimuv on seotud hingamisega
Everything going on in this Apartment is related with breathing
(kommentaar/comment, Tanel Rander, September 2022)