Nagy, sápadt lófeje olyan, mint egy gumimaszk, pofája széthúzódik, elővillannak horpadt, sárga fogai. Kedves arca van, abszintzöld szeme, hosszúkás, váratlanul hegyes orra.
He has a big head, like a horse, pale, it looks like a rubber mask. His cheeks go wide, flashing his yellow teeth. He has a tender face, eyes green like absinth, longish, unexpectedly pointy nose.
Per quanto riusciva a risalire all’indietro nel tempo con la memoria, la presenza di quegli animaletti era da sempre una costante, in quella casa, e quindi nella sua vita.
En el comienzo de este filme acaparan la atención la cara y la cabeza de un hombre, con una cúpula de canas que parecen de nailon y la ceja izquierda un poco tensa; en los ojos evocadores, la boca próspera y hasta en la papada hay una oscilación constitutiva entre eficiencia práctica y tendencia al lamento, un capital de satisfacciones que una tristeza escéptica merma, aunque no lo agota.
In de zomer van negentienhonderd vijftig, in een geheim onderzoekslaboratorium in Los Alamos, New Mexico, aan het tafeltje achterin de kantine gooit een kalende professor, Enrico Fermi genaamd, zijn vork op het dienblad en verzucht: “Maar waar zijn ze dan toch?”
In the summer of 1950, in a secret research laboratory in Los Alamos, New Mexico, at the table in the back of the canteen, a balding professor named Enrico Fermi throws his fork onto his tray and sighs, “Where are they then?”
At the beginning of the film, we are presented with the face and head of a man crowned with synthetic-looking gray hair and a twitchy left eyebrow. His eyes are evocative, his mouth redolent with prosperity and even his jowls seem to shift between practical efficiency and a disposition for despair, a wealth of self-satisfaction tempered but not eclipsed by melancholy skepticism.
Ekspedicija į Suvalkus nepavyko. Neatsipirko dėl pinigų ir pakenkė moraliai. Pinigus, tiesa, dar reikia suskaičiuoti – gal koks vienas kitas euras ir prisidėjo, bet noro skaičiuoti balansą nebuvo.
She's old and she tattoos only things of the past.
Her license is the oldest one.
Her parlor is old, too, in the dead center of the ethnographic quarter.
We're excited to be joined on the blog by Azrin Fauzi and Ali Aiman Mazwin, to talk about their story and translation, 'Panorama People'/ 'Orang Panorama', which was featured in our 25 April, 2022 issue. This beautiful story about the mutability of art and perception really rewards deeper reading, so we hope you enjoy this discussion!