2022. 12. 10 Sat
Watched A Christmas Carol by Robert Zemeckis and Jim Carrey in the morning because we wanted to slowly get in the ‘mood.’ I do this every year because the movie is a classic turned into a cinematic masterpiece. And repeatedly every year I’m amazed how they were able to conceive such delightfully unfamiliar, horrifying and alluring images. On our way to Tak Kee we talked about certain poetry in this representation of ghosts. The way the Past is put out or the architecturality of the Present and so on. The latter especially fascinates me every time I'm made conscious of it - and as someone who hasn’t (still) read Dickens’ book, I must always wonder whether the author had already prescribed such descriptive directions or not. I’d much prefer if he hadn’t.
Lunch was Mrs Lee’s treat as the typhoon shelter prawn there is my favourite dish in Berlin. Then we took our usual route up the Ku’damm, the weather was nasskalt again, consciously procrastinated at a strangely cramped bookshop as our table wasn't ready yet and took our turn at some cakes and coffee - bafflingly they had now dulled our beloved lemon tart into something fluffy and bland which used to be dense and flavourous. Why must all good things deteriorate?
At night was another concert - Bruckner 7 with Andris Nelsons who’s supposed to be the ‘Bruckner specialist’ among the younger generation. I think I’m already too spoiled by Celibidache but still it was a very profound and refreshing experience, even other-worldly in some aspects for reasons I cannot put into words here so easily. One Japanese lady next to us who was silently shedding tears during all four movements made me reflect afterwards on why the Japanese are obsessed with Mahler and Bruckner. Either it is nationwide impregnated - an elegant side effect of the much longed-for and vigorous westernisation or there must be something germanic that simply strikes the chord of their ethnicity - an interesting sociocultural psychology thesis. Then the conversation between Heidegger and Tomio Tezuka who translated Zarathustra into Japanese came to mind. But back to music - what more can I add? Almost teared up at the end of the first movement which I had never found as beautiful with the ever-elevating duologue between first violins and violas. It hoisted my soul and for the briefest moment I was uninvolved, conspicuously aloof from the world.
