Trailer 13
manhimself |
26-06-2005 |
počet komentárov (0)
tagy: Marcel Lacko Film| Netriedené| Spolo?nosť
Stiahnite si trailer 13: trailer-13-now-it-s-me-and-you.avi
[formát AVI, veľkosť 19MB, ?as 4:11]
Ďudo už nie je medzi nami
spyros |
21-06-2005 |
počet komentárov (2)
tagy: Netriedené| Privát| Spolo?nosť
Ďu?o (2003 * Košice – 2005 + Veľká Lomnica)
Dnes približne o 16:00 zomrel náš milovaný ma?ek Ďu?o pri strete s neznámym autom na hlavnej ceste do Tatranskej Lomnice. Mal som Ťa rád, tak sa tam hore drž. Nikdy by som to nebol nepovedal, ale budeš mi chýbať.
ManHimself in Bratislava II
manhimself |
21-06-2005 |
počet komentárov (2)
tagy: Bratislava a okolie| Netriedené| Slovensko
“An anchor man braces at the beginning of the century, ManHimself unites style with substance, innocence with experience… He describes the compromised lives we recognize as our own…?
Marcel and Peter „Pino“ Ungvőlgyi, the leader of the pop band Puding pani elvisovej, winner of the Slovak music award Aurel for the best album cover (Automati), playing bass; in the rehearsal’s room. Pino is also featured in Marcel Lacko film, e.g. Trailer 11 – the Health. ‘And did you ever hear that my father was an avaricious, grasping man?’.
The manor-house of Bratislava was a building of considerable antiquity, moderate size, and no architectural pretensions, deep buried in a wood. Mr. Spišák often spoke of it, and sometimes went there. His father had purchased the estate for the sake of the games covers.
To this house I came just ere dark on an evening marked by the characteristics of sad sky, cold gale, and continued small penetrating rain.
I thought I had taken a wrong direction and lost my way.
There were no flowers, no garden-beds; only a broad gravel-walk girdling a grass-plat, and this set in the heavy frame of the forest. The house presented two pointed gables in its front; the windows were latticed and narrow: the front door was narrow too, one step led up to it. The whole looked, as the host of Puding pani elvisovej had said, ‘quite a desolate spot.’ It was as still as a church on a week-day: the pattering rain on the forest leaves was the only sound audible in its vicinage.
‘Can there be life be here?’ I asked.
Yes, life of some kind there was; for I heard a movement – that narrow front-door was unclosing, and some shape was about to issue from the grange.
Dusk as it was, I had recognized her – it was my mistress, Martina Krajňáková, and no other.
The cages eagle, whose gold-ringed eyes cruelty has extinguished, might look as looked that sightless Samsonite.
Then she paused, as if she knew not which way to turn. She lifted her hand and opened her eyelids; gazed blank, and with a straining effort, on the sky, and toward the amphitheatre of trees: one saw that all to her was void darkness. She relinquished the endeavor, folded her arms, and stood quiet and mute in the rain, now falling fast on her uncovered head. At this moment Martin approached her from some quarter.
“Will you take my arm, miss?’ he said; ‘there is a heavy shower coming on: had you not better go in?’
‘Let me alone,’ was the answer.
Miss Krajňáková now tried to walk about: vainly, – all was too uncertain. She groped her way back to the house, and, re-entering it, closed the door.
I now drew near and knocked: Martin’s wife opened for me. To her hurried ‘is it really you, mister, come at this late hour to this lonely place?’ I answered by taking her hand; and then I followed her into the kitchen, where Martin now sat by a good fire. Just at this moment parlor-bell rang.
‘I don’t think she will see you,’ she said; ‘she refuses everybody.’
‘Is that what she rang for?’ I asked.
‘Yes: she always has candles brought in at dark, though she is blind.’
‘Give the tray to me; I will carry it in.’
I set it on the table; then patted Goro, and said softly, ‘Lie down!’
‘Give me the water, Želka,’ she said.
I approached her with the now only half-filled glass; Goro followed me, still excited.
‘Down, Goro!’ I again said. She checked the water on its way to her lips, and seemed to listen: she drank, and put the glass down. ‘This is you, Želka, is it not?’
‘Želka is in the kitchen,’ I answered.
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