memories of a...

(the mutation of an identity)

"i remember the day the war started..."

i remembered this as the opening sentence of the film La Jetée, because i too remembered the day when the war started. **

the morning in march i headed for the art college just like any other morning. on my way to the bus stop i met a fellow student who asked me where i was going. when he heard i was going to college he said i must be crazy as today was the deadline of the ultimatum and today we were going to be bombed.

i told him i didnt know that, as i dont follow the news. they always say the same thing anyway. when i arrived, there was no one there. the building was open, but the studios were empty. there were a few students outside. i met a friend who, like myself, didnt care too much for the ultimatum. only weeks ago we were celebrating the eve of the bombing with a chinese dinner. and nothing happened... we hung around for a while and then we decided to go to the launch of our friends' new album, in the city centre. when we arrived, we were told there was not going to be any music because of the bombing, but the drinks were on the house (i think). we didnt stay long or drink much. one of the band members arrived and said that the bombing had started, somewhere in the countryside, he had heard an announcement on the radio. i looked outside and everything seemed pretty ordinary. soon after, we split. i went to my grandmother's who lived nearby...

i remember that day, being on the bus and looking through the window. i remember thinking to myself: if this is really the day that the war starts (for us here at least) can you tell? is it in any way different from any other day. the walk to the bus stop, on the bus, walking up to the college. i remember trying to feel around me to see if there is anything peculiar about it. and i couldnt decide. i couldnt decide whether there was a strange stillness in the air, or whether that stillness was coming from within me. or whether indeed there was any stillness at all. was i just making the time go slower by trying to remember? by paying attention to the world arround me. looking at the people and cars and busses and trying to imagine them all being blown up. trying to imagine the buildings going up in flames and soldiers fighting in the streets. maybe attacking me. the closeness of it. sniffing the air... i was wondering should i be panicking, should i be more conscious of what was happening? should i watch the news more regularly? should i be affraid? is there anything that i should be feeling? i really should feel and act differently, but i didnt. perhaps that stillness...

**there is no such sentence in the film.

the film starts with:

"this is the story of a man marked by an image of his childhood. the violent scene which upset him, and whose meaning he was to grasp only years later, happened on the main pier at orly, paris airport, sometime before the outbreak of world war 3." ...

and then: "nothing tells memories from ordinary moments. only afterwards do they claim remembrance on account of their scars. ...that face, which was to be a unique image of peace time to carry with him though the whole war time. he often wondered if he had ever seen it, or if he had dreamed a lovely moment to catch up with a crazy moment that came next. the sudden roar, the woman's gesture, the fall of a body, freaking people. only later did he realize that he had seen a man dying. and soon afterwards, paris was blown up..."

©bvasic 2006

*душан радовић

quotes from: ©Chris Marker, La Jetée, 1962