MUSHKA
I gave my story the sub-title A Philosophy of Barefoot Living.
I don’t remember how many decades I spent writing this story. I dreamed it up. Often as my escape from a difficult life.
I am an artist, a sculptor, and Mushka evolved the same way my sculptures do. They change… I put them in different places, expose them to different light, I turn them around and they shift and become alive. They show me their characters, they may bend backwards, lift their arms, bend their hands, grow longer, or hunker down… they reveal their story, they engage me in a dance and I grow enthralled as they create themselves.
Similarly with Mushka, a story I wrote over a long period of time while life happened… a life, that along with the many smiles and laughter and creativity, had its share of hardships, tears, disappointments, heartbreaks… thunderstorms so to speak, with sunny spells in between.
I dreamed myself away through Mushka, dreamed up her story, lived the scenes again and again — wrote them down — continued…
At first the story was simple, then, as the characters became more alive, questions arose. “Who was Dan?” “Who was his father, his mother, his background?” With questions cam answers and more and more the story revealed itself and evolved. And as more questions popped up, my curiosity kept stirring… “Who was Mira?” Mira is secretive, she doesn’t reveal her childhood, her whereabouts… only roughly in the very beginning she allows a glimpse. She obviously grew up in uncertain times, had tasted loneliness and unanswered questions. Wide-eyed she looks at life… she is an enigma with a strong driving magic within.
This story was my secret for many years until one evening I offered to read it to my husband. I read and read to him far into the morning hours and he listened attentively and eagerly. So far he had known me as a poet and visual artist only. “I didn’t know you wrote prose,” he said surprised. And it sure wasn't easy, I must admit, to write in English which is not my first language.
As the story grew, created itself, dictated itself to me, I continued to show new chapters to my beloved life partner and asked for his opinion, his approval, his input… only the last chapter I wasn’t able to share with him…
I can’t find the words to tell how much I am missing my beloved partner and best friend. Serious thoughts about life and the afterlife are therefore reflected in the end of the book.
