De Afghaanse schrijver en historicus Akram Assem werd geboren op 29 september 1965 in Kabul. Zie ook alle tags voor Akram Assem op dit blog.
Uit: The Sword of Allah
“Khalid and the tall boy glared at each other. Slowly they began to move in a circle, the gaze of each fixed intently upon the other, each looking for an opening for his attack and each wary of the tricks that the other might use. There was no hostility in their eyes-just a keen rivalry and an unshakeable determination to win. And Khalid found it necessary to be cautious, for the tall boy was left-handed and thus enjoyed the advantage that all left-handers have over their opponents in a fight.
Wrestling was a popular pastime among the boys of Arabia, and they frequently fought each other. There was no malice in these fights. It was a sport, and boys were trained in wrestling as one of the requirements of Arab manhood. But these two boys were the strongest of all and the leaders of boys of their age. This match was, so to speak, a fight for the heavy-weight title. The boys were well matched. Of about the same age, they were in their early teens. Both were tall and lean, and newly formed muscles rippled on their shoulders and arms as their sweating bodies glistened in the sun. The tall boy was perhaps an inch taller than Khalid. And their faces were so alike that one was often mistaken for the other.
Khalid threw the tall boy; but this was no ordinary fall. As the tall boy fell there was a distinct crack, and a moment later the grotesquely twisted shape of his leg showed that the bone had broken. The stricken boy lay motionless on the ground, and Khalid stared in horror at the broken leg of his friend and nephew. (The tall boy’s mother, Hantamah bint Hisham bin Al Mugheerah, was Khalid’s first cousin.)”
Akram Assem (Kabul, 29 september 1965)
De Duitse (detective)schrijfster Ingrid Noll werd geboren op 29 september 1935 in Shanghai. Zie ook alle tags voor Ingrid Noll op dit blog.
Uit: Über Bord
“Amalias träumerisches Sonnenbad wurde jäh unterbrochen. Ellen kam in den Garten gelaufen und rief »Zieh dir was über, wir bekommen gleich Besuch!« Ihre Tochter schaute träge hoch und hatte wenig Lust, ihr Top gegen ein T-Shirt einzutauschen.
»Wer denn?«, fragte sie.
»Ein Mann hat gerade angerufen, ich kenne ihn nicht. Er heißt Dornenvogel oder Dornkaat oder so ähnlich und will etwas Privates besprechen, er tat sehr geheimnisvoll«.
Jetzt horchte die misstrauische Großmutter ebenfalls auf. »Muss ich mich etwa auch umziehen?«, fragte sie. Ellen musterte ihre alte Mutter, die in ihrem Grünzeug zwar keine besonders gute Figur machte, aber zwischen Moos und Gras nicht weiter auffiel.
Auch Amalia wollte lieber liegen bleiben, doch ihre Neugier war erwacht. Ein Bote von der Lotteriegesellschaft?
»Ist der Dornenvogel aus der Nachbarschaft?«, fragte sie, aber Ellen schüttelte bloß den Kopf und rannte wieder ins Haus, um auf die Schnelle ein wenig aufzuräumen.
Es klingelte eine halbe Stunde später.”
Ingrid Noll (Shanghai, 29 september 1935)
De Britse schrijver Colin Dexter werd geboren op 29 september 1935 in Stamford, Lincolnshire. Zie ook alle tags voor Colin Dexter op dit blog.
Uit: The Remorseful Day
“He reached for the binoculars now and focused on an interesting specimen pecking away at the grass below the peanuts: a small bird, with a greyish crown, dark-brown bars across the dingy russet of its back, and paler underparts. As he watched, he sought earnestly to memorize this remarkable bird’s characteristics, so as to be able to match its variegated plumage against the appropriate illustration in the Guide.
Plenty of time for that though.
He leaned back once more and rejoiced in the radiant warmth of Schwarzkopf’s voice, following the English text that lay open on his lap: “You holy Art, when all my hope is shaken . . .”
When, too, a few moments later, his mood of pleasurable melancholy was shaken by three confident bursts on a front-door bell that to several of his neighbors sounded considerably over-decibeled, even for the hard-of-hearing.”
Colin Dexter (Stamford, 29 september 1935)
Hier rechts met John Thaw (Inspecteur Morse)
De Italiaanse filosoof, dichter, artiest, en geweldloos activist Lanza del Vasto werd geboren in San Vito dei Normanni op 29 september 1901. Zie ook alle tags voor Lanza del Vasto op dit blog.
L‘inquiétante image
Les arbres que je vois sont de vrais arbres,
Verts dans le noir, et frissonnant très haut
Au creux du ciel grand que la lune marbre.
L’eau, où le vent se trace et se prolonge,
Lèche l’arche du pont et fuit, vraie eau.
Et les femmes qui marchent sur la terre,
Elles sont : ô stupeur du solitaire.
Et tout ceci, que je touche ce soir,
Est plus profond et plus secret qu’un songe,
Et trouble, et plus décevant qu’un espoir.
Image, ô toi belle aux cœurs inquiets,
O deux fois belle image, toi qui es.
Femme
Femme, le vent est doux entre tes dents,
La mer s’approche et vie dans tes paupières. ;
Femme, ton corps de nuage et de pierre
Porte la vie et son arbre au-dedans,
Et la nuit chante aux rameaux de tes veines :
Signe de chair, à l’oubli de tes plages,
A leur blancheur, notre appel et nos peines
Ont déposé leur coquillage.
Lanza del Vasto (29 september 1901 – 5 januari 1981)