(no subject)
A hidden part of the city, accessable only from an inlet near the abandoned vineyards, these few streets had enchated Otto when he first discovered them as a boy. Then the fields surrounding were thriving and smelled of Wienmost. Ravens now had taken possession of the wildly growing vies and thrived off the yearly grapes from unkempt vines growing ....... through oneanother far from their stakes. Because of the new railway, the little Dorf was not dependent on connections to the rest of Vienna, and subsisted solely upon the wood harvested from the thick forests which surrounded it. A train came daily and dropped off delicacys to the people there, whose thoughts were made of wood, whose bodies smelled of woodsmoke, whose lives were merely Holzhandle. They loaded the freshly cut logs onto the Zugwaggon, wood which would warm elegant bodies faraway in beautiful parts of the city.
Hacking is connected by a railway, and is larger. The areas south of Ob.St.Veit are made smaller, as being only forest and wild orchards, and Liesing becomes a kind of phantom world of scraggly tree orchards, forestry and logging, and Weinbau. Otto´s mansion exists in many places, but is built upon a vast pear tree orchard which in his later years after the death of his parents becomes vagrant and unkempt. Sometimes Otto lives in a Kabinettzimmer in Leopoldstadt, a tiny room once used as servant quarters, in order to be closer to Amöne. There is a period where they are inseperable. He pays for the giant flat perched high in the air, and at different time both sisters have lived there. The place is a kind of playground for the imagination. what happens when you place a beloved thing inside this container, this palace of wooden paneled walls and antique paintings. Although there are several rooms, he prefers to hide in the servants quarters.
Whenever Otto wandered through Hacking he could trace the scent of Albine from the little tufts of smoke that rose from terracotta chimneys.
To feel myself drawn into Amöne´s world, and then asking, beckonging: What IS she just exactly.
Wilder than her sister, took paths which led to bad ends, but always seemed to recover from them, even flourish from the bruising that the rotten choices had brought upon her. Thus she rises far above ..... and wins the affections of Otto. Both of the sisters were taught to play on a half broken Ottavino, one hewn from the seasoned wood inside the clock tower, and Amöne used this little shape of an instrument, with its sour bass notes, and clickity clackity keys on the higher registers - to play out her heart to him. The music had decided long ago, when Albine was asked to improvise one evening. Hourds of übermödische hinterländere waited in the windoweaves, stuffed like Treibgut into the overly heated Leopoldstadt flat, until they were balanced on the windowsills, about to fall out into the night. The music came forth from Albine, but her fingers pushed out the melodies as if reciting text from a book everyone knew. Phrases leap out, and were complex and beautiful, but well worn and not her own. Her black hair fell partially down on the keys made of bone and boxwood; one of her notes played upon her hair. The audience applauded weakly, politley, and Otto came and lifted her from the little Spinette,two hands pushed under her armpits, as as lifting a child, and kissed her ear. then Amöne sat down at the Ottavino: silence in the rooms. It smelled of wine and roses, glasses shone under the chandeliers, all eyes on the scruffy shape sitting before the keyboard, dissproving of her worn dress, and long black tresses tangled within her vest. And that ridiculoous English cap! But when she began tto play every heart oozed from its ribcage and slid down into the lower, unknown areas near the stomach, where one feelss shaken after nearly dying, or being in love, or hearing such wonderful things. Amöne teased and snatched beautiful melodies, thrashed them, here violent, and there tender and merciful as if stroking the head of a puppet. One could not follow the logical thread of the improvisations - it was moreso a muscial Puppenschauspiel with a beautiful but unseeable end. Amöne was the master of the little dolls which crept into the ears of the stupid, endlessly vapid audience. the little Bauerntöchter has them completely under her control, mesmerized as within a dreamy cocoon. The music stopped finally after a descending flourish from the high clicking keys down to the low, groaningly ungestimmte notes, and the applause was suddenly deafening. Some were near to tears, and saw Amöne turn round on the little round stool to face them through a moist vision; her black unkempt hair flowed down to her waist, a statue made from pale marble but with color in its cheeks. She heard nothing on this night, only saw Otto moving towards her, visibly shaken and stirred with emotion as he bent down to plant a wet kiss on her mouuth, bringing up his long coat at the same time to shield this kiss from view. For these few seconds, inside his coat, she belonged suddenlly to him.
Hacking is connected by a railway, and is larger. The areas south of Ob.St.Veit are made smaller, as being only forest and wild orchards, and Liesing becomes a kind of phantom world of scraggly tree orchards, forestry and logging, and Weinbau. Otto´s mansion exists in many places, but is built upon a vast pear tree orchard which in his later years after the death of his parents becomes vagrant and unkempt. Sometimes Otto lives in a Kabinettzimmer in Leopoldstadt, a tiny room once used as servant quarters, in order to be closer to Amöne. There is a period where they are inseperable. He pays for the giant flat perched high in the air, and at different time both sisters have lived there. The place is a kind of playground for the imagination. what happens when you place a beloved thing inside this container, this palace of wooden paneled walls and antique paintings. Although there are several rooms, he prefers to hide in the servants quarters.
Whenever Otto wandered through Hacking he could trace the scent of Albine from the little tufts of smoke that rose from terracotta chimneys.
To feel myself drawn into Amöne´s world, and then asking, beckonging: What IS she just exactly.
Wilder than her sister, took paths which led to bad ends, but always seemed to recover from them, even flourish from the bruising that the rotten choices had brought upon her. Thus she rises far above ..... and wins the affections of Otto. Both of the sisters were taught to play on a half broken Ottavino, one hewn from the seasoned wood inside the clock tower, and Amöne used this little shape of an instrument, with its sour bass notes, and clickity clackity keys on the higher registers - to play out her heart to him. The music had decided long ago, when Albine was asked to improvise one evening. Hourds of übermödische hinterländere waited in the windoweaves, stuffed like Treibgut into the overly heated Leopoldstadt flat, until they were balanced on the windowsills, about to fall out into the night. The music came forth from Albine, but her fingers pushed out the melodies as if reciting text from a book everyone knew. Phrases leap out, and were complex and beautiful, but well worn and not her own. Her black hair fell partially down on the keys made of bone and boxwood; one of her notes played upon her hair. The audience applauded weakly, politley, and Otto came and lifted her from the little Spinette,two hands pushed under her armpits, as as lifting a child, and kissed her ear. then Amöne sat down at the Ottavino: silence in the rooms. It smelled of wine and roses, glasses shone under the chandeliers, all eyes on the scruffy shape sitting before the keyboard, dissproving of her worn dress, and long black tresses tangled within her vest. And that ridiculoous English cap! But when she began tto play every heart oozed from its ribcage and slid down into the lower, unknown areas near the stomach, where one feelss shaken after nearly dying, or being in love, or hearing such wonderful things. Amöne teased and snatched beautiful melodies, thrashed them, here violent, and there tender and merciful as if stroking the head of a puppet. One could not follow the logical thread of the improvisations - it was moreso a muscial Puppenschauspiel with a beautiful but unseeable end. Amöne was the master of the little dolls which crept into the ears of the stupid, endlessly vapid audience. the little Bauerntöchter has them completely under her control, mesmerized as within a dreamy cocoon. The music stopped finally after a descending flourish from the high clicking keys down to the low, groaningly ungestimmte notes, and the applause was suddenly deafening. Some were near to tears, and saw Amöne turn round on the little round stool to face them through a moist vision; her black unkempt hair flowed down to her waist, a statue made from pale marble but with color in its cheeks. She heard nothing on this night, only saw Otto moving towards her, visibly shaken and stirred with emotion as he bent down to plant a wet kiss on her mouuth, bringing up his long coat at the same time to shield this kiss from view. For these few seconds, inside his coat, she belonged suddenlly to him.