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New Stage
חיפוש בבמה

שם משתמש או מספר
סיסמתך
[ אני רוצה משתמש! ]
[ איבדתי סיסמה ): ]


מדורי במה








Click.
The camera made a soft buzzing sound, and a bright white
light flashed around.
Here she was, dancing barefooted on the soft golden sand of
the beach, her hands spread sideways, her pinky red dotted
summer dress floating around the waves, the music made like
a nutshell on high water, the mid-summer air strokes her
smiling face, her deep blue eyes glittering back at him like
two diamonds that would make some man rich, her long long
hair, that wore the same color as the sand underneath her
gave way to the wind, her freckles lighting up the sun.
Click. Click.
The eight D batteries portable radio was spreading soft
sounds to the blue sky above as he stood there and watched
her through the lens of his camera, his finger resting for a
while on the shoot button, then pressing again. Click.
A floating angel she was, timeless, ageless, fearless. It
was as if he wasn't there or as if his camera could never
affect her, on and on she kept dancing and hopping in wide
circles, her feet barely touching the ground, her toes
drawing thin lines on the wet send and sinking through the
watery ocean mud as the waves came and went with a quite
brushing hush that joined the music from the radio.

He wanted to say something, but couldn't think of anything
to say. He wanted to drop the camera and hug her as hard as
he could, as to make sure this moment would never pass, as
to make sure she would stay his forever and the sun wouldn't
disappear behind dark clouds, as to live those few moments
for the rest of his life, as to hold time for a few seconds
more. He wanted to shout he loved her, loud enough to break
the magic bubble she was dancing in, loud enough, that his
voice would cross over to the other side of the grey stormy
ocean, loud enough, so she could really hear him.
But he couldn't. He didn't dare to. She was untouchable, and
as hard as he wanted to, he could never break her dance with
a hug or the pitch of his voice.
That's what his camera was for. The moment would pass away,
and the warm sun would give way to the yellow thin light of
the moon, summer would turn into winter and cool breezes
would become freezing storms of snow and ice, but through
all of those changes one thing would always remain, that was
her laughing face with shining dimples on a matte
photographic paper.    
His gaze rested upon her perfect figure as she floated in
space like the divine goddess she was. Enchanted and
speechless he stared at her, and he tried to stabilize the
Nikon 60D with both hands while her eyes penetrated his
heart with a sweet blade.
She was dancing in front of him like a shaman in trance,
like a crazy woman who gives in to the deep beats of some
ancient drums, like a cobra snake rattling to the movements
of the flute. And although he couldn't say a word to her,
and although he couldn't spread his arms and touch her face,
although he couldn't even think of kissing those laughing
lips of hers, his heart was those ancient drums she was
dancing to the sound of, and he smiled an invisible smile
behind the round lens that covered his face.
Click, and the world was all his, even if just for a moment
and even if just from afar.








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חוות דעת על היצירה באופן פומבי ויתכן שגם ישירות ליוצר

לשלוח את היצירה למישהו להדפיס את היצירה
היצירה לעיל הנה בדיונית וכל קשר בינה ובין
המציאות הנו מקרי בהחלט. אין צוות האתר ו/או
הנהלת האתר אחראים לנזק, אבדן, אי נוחות, עגמת
נפש וכיו''ב תוצאות, ישירות או עקיפות, שייגרמו
לך או לכל צד שלישי בשל מסרים שיפורסמו
ביצירות, שהנם באחריות היוצר בלבד.
מישהו ראה את
הסרט האחרון
שלי, "אמא של
שכן שלי תולה
כביסה" ?








קומיצה, במאי
כושל.

בזרקור
עדן מימן
עדן מימן

nobody becomes an
artist unless they
have to.



תרומה לבמה




בבמה מאז 15/12/12 12:04
האתר מכיל תכנים שיתכנו כבלתי הולמים או בלתי חינוכיים לאנשים מסויימים.
אין הנהלת האתר אחראית לכל נזק העלול להגרם כתוצאה מחשיפה לתכנים אלו.
אחריות זו מוטלת על יוצרי התכנים. הגיל המומלץ לגלישה באתר הינו מעל ל-18.
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