Wydawca: AAVAA Verlag Kategoria: Obyczajowe i romanse Język: angielski Rok wydania: 2014

Uzyskaj dostęp do tej
i ponad 25000 książek
od 6,99 zł miesięcznie.

Wypróbuj przez
7 dni za darmo

Ebooka przeczytasz w aplikacjach Legimi na:

e-czytniku kup za 1 zł
tablecie  
smartfonie  
komputerze  
Czytaj w chmurze®
w aplikacjach Legimi.
Dlaczego warto?
Czytaj i słuchaj w chmurze®
w aplikacjach Legimi.
Dlaczego warto?
Liczba stron: 297 Przeczytaj fragment ebooka

Odsłuch ebooka (TTS) dostępny w abonamencie „ebooki+audiobooki bez limitu” w aplikacji Legimi na:

Androida
iOS
Czytaj i słuchaj w chmurze®
w aplikacjach Legimi.
Dlaczego warto?

Ebooka przeczytasz na:

Kindlu MOBI
e-czytniku EPUB kup za 1 zł
tablecie EPUB
smartfonie EPUB
komputerze EPUB
Czytaj w chmurze®
w aplikacjach Legimi.
Dlaczego warto?
Czytaj i słuchaj w chmurze®
w aplikacjach Legimi.
Dlaczego warto?
Zabezpieczenie: watermark Przeczytaj fragment ebooka

Opis ebooka An Igloo for Two - Sabine Richling

What happens when you are seen with a famous musician? Malina manages to get herself into this very situation. And the whole world is watching her now, thinking that she is together with him so that she would most like to hole up at the North Pole. To escape the general attention, she retreats. But then she encounters the pompous womanizer anew …

Opinie o ebooku An Igloo for Two - Sabine Richling

Fragment ebooka An Igloo for Two - Sabine Richling

Sabine Richling

An Igloo for Two

© 2014 AAVAA Verlag

All rights reserved

Cover design: AAVAA Publishing, Berlin

Cover Photo: iStockphoto:  Bright Glowing Heart, 21155688:

Printed in Germany

AAVAA print+design

Taschenbuch:   ISBN 978-3-8459-1123-6

eBook epub:   ISBN 978-3-8459-1125-0

eBook PDF:   ISBN 978-3-8459-1126-7

Special : Mini-Buch without ISBN

AAVAA Verlag, Hohen Neuendorf, bei Berlin

www.aavaa-verlag.com

All persons and names in the novel are purely fictional. Any similarities with living persons are coincidental and not intentional.

Persuasion doesn’t work

“I really don’t want to go there,” I respond to Lucy. “I don’t know this singer and, now that I think about it, I have something else planned.”

At least, if you look at it hypothetically.

I don’t think my excuse is very convincing but you can always try.

“Yes, you are going!”

 Lucy puts the invitation in front of me on the table. Again, I am being persuaded, as so often. It happens to me all the time. So my fate seems sealed.

Lucy had taken part in a competition, for which this singer was the main prize. More exactly, the prize is a meal with him. She actually did win, but doesn’t have the time to keep the appointment. Her boss is sending her to Germany. There she is to give a talk on the methods of archaeology at the Archaeological Institute in Hamburg. Lucy is an archaeologist. She has done a good bit of excavation. It’s a really interesting profession. It’s a bit related to mine. I am an ethnologist.

Viewed genetically, I am half Inuit. Other people say Eskimo. My father is an Inuit but, as far as appearance is concerned, I am the image of my Swedish mother. Her azure eyes and almost silver hair have completely dominated with me. I turned out to be a cross-breed, who does not look “blended” at all. Only the dark chocolate coloring of my father somehow transformed my skin tone into a whole milk complexion.  So I am a whole milk Swede. Yet I inherited the temperament of my father. I am about as entertaining as a sleeping pill. You could say calm and introverted. Most of all, I like to sit on a block of ice and stare into the Arctic Ocean.

Since I’ve been living in New York, I occasionally look out the window. My computer is my best friend. I write a lot. And I’ll be publishing another book in September. It will be the fifth one. My work as an ethnologist suggests what I write about. Four times, I have joined an Indian tribe for a while, observing their culture and lifestyle, actually living together with the people of a tribe. For a shy person like me, this was a challenge and a conquest.

The original inhabitants of Australia fascinate me. Unfortunately, like the Indians of North America, they live on reservations. I joined a small tribe of the Aranda and lived with them for five months in the Australian desert. It was an exciting time.  Unforgettable. I wrote down my experiences in my last book. It will be on the market in two months. With my books, I want to make the public aware of abuses. I want to inform and gain the understanding of all peoples for other peoples. That is my goal.

Why am I expressing myself like this? Perhaps because I grew up in a world which was different, in which the color of my skin became a problem.

“Listen, Malina,” Lucy asserts. “Isn’t it clear to you who this Danny is?”

Actually not.

Innocently, I look Lucy in the eye.

“He could be the reincarnation of John Lennon and you wouldn’t know it, right?”

Could be.

“Whatever. Somebody has to go. And, since I have something else to do on that day, you are the one left. He is really a dreamboat, Malina.”

She holds the picture of Mr. Greyeyes to her breast and dances dreamily around the room.

I wish that I could share her joy. But you can’t exactly say that I am loaded with enthusiasm. I would compare Lucy to a raging river, while I am more like a quiet, stark lake. I tend to keep my enthusiasm within limits. Especially when it concerns rock stars that I don’t know and with whom I have to go eat against my expressed will.

The small village where I grew up in Greenland was so remote that half of the western world was foreign to me. After I left Greenland, something continued that had started in my childhood. It was the feeling of being strange or exotic. Since I was born, the problem has been that I am a cross-breed. I never looked like one, but rather like somebody from another planet. Fate granted my older brother Namid more luck. Our father had given it all for his bequeathing and produced an almost complete image of himself.

So much for my problem. And why was that a problem?

Children can be so cruel. Namid took his role as an older brother very seriously and regularly beat up our schoolmates to protect me from their teasing. My European appearance just didn’t fit this area. Somehow I didn’t fit in. At least it felt that way.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to go to school forever, at least not to this one.

When my brother and I were old enough, my father showed us some important survival tricks, tied our dogs in front of the sleighs and traversed the Arctic icy wilderness with us. We learned how to build igloos and to hunt seals.

 The excursions into the eternal snow and the icy world of glaciers with my father remain indelible in my memory. The loneliness, the wind, the sun; even today, I sense the solidarity with the untamed nature of the north.

Early in the game, I learned to find my way alone in the raw landscape. At the same time, the weaknesses in my character had all the time in the world to multiply. The loneliness gave me a feeling of isolation and belonged to me like a part of my body.

After seven years, the only girlfriend I had acquired snatched up my only friend. Today they are married to each other.

Shortly after the disgrace of having lost my first and only friend to date to my best girlfriend, I left my native country. I wanted to study and I wanted to see the big, wide world. So I went to New York.

While in school, I met Lucy, who is my best friend today. Although I had developed a sort of “best friend trauma”, I dared to take the “friend risk” again. Up until now, everything has gone well with Lucy. But then I didn’t have any new boyfriend either. For the last five years, I have been without any male companionship worth mentioning.

But then there is still Lucy. We live together. Or, should I say, we share an apartment. She is always on the go. She visits conventions or goes on excavations.

Why is she forcing me to go on this date with a rock star or whatever kind of star, when the guy is absolutely unknown to me? My taste in music lags behind the spirit of the times. Do I even have one? If I am honest, I hardly know what is “in” as far as music is concerned. I don’t listen to music. What is music? If Lucy is at home, I listen to her racket against my will. It might be that this singer did one of the songs she played. What was his name? Was it Danny Greyeyes? I’m supposed to meet with Danny Greyeyes. I’d prefer Brown Eyes.

“Malina, you simply have to tell me everything, you hear? You’d better bring a camera and take notes, so you don’t forget anything!”

“I’m supposed to take his picture? That is really too silly.”

“Naturally you’ll take some pictures. Every fan would do that.”

Am I a fan?

“Besides, you should definitely listen to a few of his songs so that you know what he is about.”

Lucy runs to her CD rack and pulls three discs from the shelf. She comes and shoves them in my stomach.

“Here, listen and learn the titles by heart! Is that clear?”

Clear.

“Do I really have to go? I mean, don’t you know anyone else who would enjoy this? Why only me?”

Lucy laughs her refreshing laugh and strokes my hair.

“Of course. But you are just the right one.”

Me. How so?

“Besides, you hang out much too much with any old bush men instead of learning about real life.”

So real life takes place on the stage of a rock star?

Voluntary Force

Lucy is in Hamburg. She worked on me for another day and half a night, before she left the apartment with her suitcase. But, ultimately, that wouldnt have been necessary. I would not have dared to defy her will. If Lucy decides that I should meet Mr. Greyeyes, then I will do it. Whether I want to or not.

Im sitting on the sofa and listening to Dannys music. I like it. A little rock-like and yet gentle. My index finger is stirring around in my hair and looking for a suitable strand to wrap around it. The finger is too short. The hair rolls around the finger, twice and three times, until there is nothing more to see. I must need to shorten the hair again. Or how about longer fingers …?

The telephone startles me out of my lethargy.

Hello, are you Miss Lucy Atkinson? A hollow voice echoes from the receiver directly into my ear canal.

No, she is not here. My name is Malina Bergstroem. Maybe I can help you?

Quiet. Crackle. Rustle. Whispering.

Do you know when she can be reached?

Not for three days, I reply. What is this about and with whom am I speaking?

Quiet. Crackle. Rustle. Whispering.

My name is Adam Fox. I am Danny Greyeyes manager. To our knowledge, Miss Atkinson won the main prize. A dinner with Danny. Do you know anything about that? I wanted to arrange the formalities with her.

Well. You will have to arrange those with me. Miss Atkinson transferred her prize to me.

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!