Gvantsa Gubeladze - My husband
He has no idea about my passion.
He doesn't know that every night his wife gets up like a lunatic and writes with her frostbitten fingers.
I don't want him to know that I write! That's all…
How in the world should I tell him that I’ve started writing?… How can I say that I played the „Für Elise“ on the violin to a stranger man last night ... Then we danced in one of the bars in London... chased pigeons in narrow streets of Venice...
How can he understand ? I think he won’t…
How can he cope with the fact that I met Chester in the state of Origon in the 60s. Chester, who used to plait chamomiles in my hair, was a hippie. He completely disregarded the achievements of civilization. He used to be a nice guy… We roamed the whole country by his colourful caravan ... Later I got to know Charles from England and I escaped with him at once. After many years I heard Chester had died of AIDS. I was sorry for him, even a tear rolled down my face.
Apparently Charles suffered from myopia as he wore large-framed eyeglasses absolutely matching his personality. Dim-witted girls drove him crazy. We lived in a small apartment in London. His everyday speech about great aims, thoughts of Isaac Newton or his law of gravity made me feel fed up . So I betrayed him to a street musician. Nothing lasts forever and one day I decided to run away from him,too. The street musician caught me and tried to kill me.
‘Forgive me, darling, I am a writer !" – I am cuddling up against my husband. I’ve come up with so many ideas that I can't sleep.’
‘ Honey, sometimes I do want to tell you all the stories, but I can’t ’.
‘One day you might understand. ‘
‘ I can’t realize how you can sleep so calmly when I am wandering through chapters . If only you could see the crowds of my fans . You would challenge them to a duel as if we lived in XVI century Italy. Don’t blame me. Whenever I write, they turn up.
Means of transport ?
-Cabs… horses… even the bus…
-It depends on my character…
I’d rather sleep, otherwise I’ll get up, switch on my laptop and start writing.
Good night, my darling… In the morning I’ll be your wife as usual and there will be two cups of coffee in the kitchen. ‘
‘No, I can’t tell him that his wife is a writer… ‘