Date: Sun, 11 Mar 2007 11:23:24 +0100
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: Special Issue - 6 Interviews 5/6 (beginnings)

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SPECIAL ISSUE - 6 INTERVIEWS
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2007
written on December 17th 1994
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by John

-----------------------------

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"SPECIAL ISSUE - 6 INTERVIEWS" is a gay story, with some parts
containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land,
religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be
better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU
don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be
my welcomed guest.

-----------------------------

FIFTH

I couldn't miss, in this series of interviews with famous men in the gay
(and not-so-gay) world, that singer of homoeroticism, the great poet
whose books are achieving more and more success in our country:

KIM  SERUUP

Dane, poet.

Q. Kim, you certainly are known to our readers, because for five years
now your poems have been published in our language too. Unhappily in
translation, but with the original texts in parallel.

A. I'm sorry I don't know well enough Italian, your beautiful
language...

Q. How many languages do you know, Kim?

A. Well... to be able both to speak and to write them correctly... they
are nine, included Danish,

Q. An enviable number. And you write your poems directly in all nine of
them, right?

A. Yes, it is so.

Q. How many books have you published?

A. As original titles, twelve. Counting also the translations, they are
eighty-four in twenty-one different languages.

Q. A real record, for a young poet as you are. You are only thirty-five
years old and your first success was just eight years ago. Therefore an
average of ten books per year.

A. Right, and this allows me to have a good living, without problems,
together with my companion.

Q. You've been together for thirteen years now, haven't you?

A. Yes, it will be thirteen years in November.

Q. Would you please tell us about yourself? Above all, how it is that
you know so many languages, and all at a very high level?

A. My father was a Dane, but my mother a French woman. Even though they
loved each other and married, they didn't know each other's language and
they communicated in English. They both worked for the European
Community. I was born in Brussels, in fact. So, from my childhood my
father talked with me in Danish, my mother in French, and when we were
all three together, it was in English.

Q. Didn't that make you confused?

A. No, on the contrary it was to me like a game, and made me used to
shifting instantly from one language to another, to listen in one
language and to answer in another, something essential for anybody doing
simultaneous interpretation, as was my job for some years.

Q. Right, you were interpreter at the U.N.O. in New York. Therefore
since you were a child you mastered three languages. And then?

A. My parents, seeing my ease in mastering languages, decided to enroll
me at the primary level in a German school. And at the middle schools,
when we had to chose a foreign language, I started to study Spanish.
Then I entered a linguistic high school in Geneva. And there I studied
Russian, Arabic and Japanese. And each summer I spent my holidays in one
of the countries where those languages are spoken.

Q. So you reached a total of eight languages.

A. The ninth is Thai - I study it after I met San, my lover, who is
Thai.

Q. Extraordinary! You mention San. Would you like to explain for us how
you discovered you are gay, and then how you met San? If I am not wrong,
he is the only partner of your life

A. It's exactly so - my first and only love. How did I discover I am
gay? A long and painful labour that lasted two years. Until I was twenty
years old, in fact, I had had only girls. To tell the truth, it is not
that I was looking for them, they were looking for me; but everybody
seemed to have a girlfriend, therefore I had one too. I felt fine with
them. I made love with them. With satisfaction. I justified the fact
that it was not so important to me, at that time, thinking that my
sexuality was very quiet. And I justified the fact of being attracted to
the boys (not in an explicitly sexual way, but it was me who sought
their company) as a normal sense of comradeship common to many
adolescents. The fact is that I was not aroused just looking at a boy or
at a girl. Therefore I didn't have any problems.

Q. When did the problems arise, and how?

A. I was, as I said, twenty. I was then living in Madrid. I was
improving my Spanish and I also attended conversation classes for
Arabic. I had a girlfriend, a Russian girl studying with me (and so I
practiced also Russian) with whom anyway we didn't yet reach a complete
intercourse - we were just flirting. And then I met Domingo. He was a
sixteen years old boy, the son of my landlord. He was more than
likeable, cheerful, lively and intelligent. And also, but I discovered
this only later, he was gay. I liked him very much. He came to clean my
room and willingly stopped to chat with me. Domingo got a crush on me.
He knew I had a girlfriend, but the little devil decided to seduce me
all the same. He put one over on me, he gradually bewitched me, he
succeeded in setting up with me a more and more intimate and free
relationship, he brought me talk of sex and confided to me the problems
he had with his (nonexistent) girlfriend.

To make short a long story, he managed one day to have me taking a
shower with him, and there to arouse me and to make me agree to
masturbate together. But for sure Domingo didn't intend to stop there.
This thing happened some more times, and I was still quiet, as both of
us didn't yet manage to have sex with our own girlfriends, and we gave
vent to our feelings between good friends. I did that at the middle
school too - kid's games, so why not now? After all Domingo was right,
it was more fun than doing it by themselves.

But one day he didn't restrain himself to our usual "match" as he called
it. He lowered between my legs and gave me a blow job. At first I
stiffened, embarrassed, but it was extremely pleasurable, and after all,
if he liked it... I let him do it. This also entered in the usual
procedure. Sucking me, he was able to make me incredibly aroused, so one
day, when he offered himself to me, I was so horny that, without a
thought, I penetrated him. I loved it immensely. I fucked him with
gusto, he urged me, he tossed under me. Not even for one moment did I
think that I was having complete intercourse with a male, I just thought
that I was enjoying that fuck as never before in my life. That is, until
we reached our orgasm. Then, while relaxing, panting, sated, the
consciousness of what I just did surfaced. It was a shock - I had
enjoyed "making love" with a male. That was no longer a game between
friends, an innocent way to have fun... I fucked him and I liked it. For
several days I treated him coldly. But Domingo was patient. Sly like a
cat observing a mouse, he knew how much I enjoyed it.

What most upset me was that I was conscious that inside myself I
continued to desire him and the more I tried to repress this desire, the
more it seemed to increase. I even started to dream of him in the night
- weird dreams, unlikely situations, but all culminating with me taking
Domingo. And I often woke up with an incredible erection.

Of course, we didn't take our shower together any more, but one day...
It was summer, an incredibly hot day. We both wore just our shorts, bare
chest. He was cleaning my room, I was studying. From time to time I was
looking at him and soon I got a hard-on. He noticed that. He came onto
me trying to open my fly. I pushed him away from me, we fought, we fell
on the floor, I was more and more excited by the physical contact our
fight involved. By his way to fight and touch me, kissing me, licking
me... He had incredible strength. Little by little he managed to open my
shorts, then to take it in his mouth... and I surrendered. When he
offered himself to me, I took him with impetus, almost with rage. While
I was fiercely mounting him, he slipped a finger in my backdoor and
rocked it and I felt a tremendous pleasure and exploded in my orgasm. He
didn't come. No! He quickly escaped from me, squirmed around, pointed
his weapon and penetrated me. Again that immense pleasure... that
dragged away from me any will to resist him. When Domingo came inside
me, I reached a second orgasm. Then Domingo dressed again and just said,
"Adios." And my brain seized up.

Q. Did he "convert" you? Did you finally accept your sexuality after
that second, pleasurable experience?

A. No, absolutely not. I got through a crisis even more than before, but
in the end I told myself it was the fault of the little devil, that it
was just an accident without importance, that... but I knew that wasn't
true. I experienced pleasure, and really strong pleasure. Being fucked I
had no more excuses, I was gay. But I didn't want to be so. Domingo
represented a danger for me.

On the spur of the moment, I went back to Copenhagen. I enrolled in
courses in Japanese and Russian conversation. I started to court all the
barely pretty girls that were at hand...

Then I earned a scholarship for an annual course in Tokyo to perfect my
simultaneous interpretation. I deceived myself that the more kilometers
I put between Domingo and me, the easier problem could subside, but you
cannot run away from a problem that is inside yourself. You just,
inevitably, take it along with you.

At first, the problems of adaptation to a deeply different culture,
having no friends, and searching for a lodging (I felt the foreign
students dormitory too crowded for me, moreover I didn't want to be
amongst foreigners) all absorbed me. Then I became aware that I was
again starting to look at boys, to desire them, to become aroused by
them.

I got a Japanese girlfriend. It was not difficult to take her in my bed
but it was a big disappointment. Not her fault, not because Japanese
girls are not good at it - but it was as if I had to carry out a duty, a
task... nothing really pleasurable. I had to show something to myself,
but I was not able. In reality, on a merely physiological level, it
worked, I could get my orgasm, she seemed happy with me, in fact she
wanted to meet me again.

Again a difficult, hard period. I got another girlfriend - a Venezuelan
who in bed was a bomb. Nothing different for me. I carried out my duty,
and desired boys even more than before.

In the end, I surrendered. But I didn't know what to do, where to look
for a boy. Until I heard talk about the gay quarter. I went there, I saw
a gay book shop. I bought a guide to Tokyo gay clubs and started to
explore them. But as soon as somebody tried to approach me, I ran away
headlong, terrified. I feared having the confirmation that the intense
pleasure I had had with Domingo was not his fault...

Until one evening I decided to go to one of those premises where you
could choose a boy, pay for him and take him home. I was terribly
embarrassed. The manager welcomed me. He offered me a drink and
buttonholed me. He paid me his compliments on my fluent Japanese and my
rich vocabulary... and asked me if amongst the boys lined up behind the
counter there was one, by chance, that appealed to me. I looked at the
boys and was ashamed to look at them more than them looking at me. They
were possibly used to it. Bored, bold, shy, dull, winking glances. I was
struck by a boy with sad eyes.

"That one." I pointed out to the manager.

"Ah, San. He is a Thai boy. A good boy, in bed he does everything you
could want. You will feel good with him." He called him over. "Talk a
while with the guest" he told him and made him sit at my table.

I ordered a drink for him. He thanked me. I didn't know what to say to
him.

The manager, after a long silence between us, came again near me, "If
you prefer another boy..."

"No, no, he is all right." I paid the price for one night and went out
with the boy.

We took the train. We reached my home almost without exchanging a single
word.

"Do you want me to undress, sir?" he asked me in English.

"Not yet." I answered.

Silence.

"For how long are you in Japan?" I asked him in Japanese.

"Two years."

"But.. how old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Are you here with your family?"

"No, alone."

"You came at fifteen, alone?" I asked astounded.

"Yes."

"And... why?"

"To... earn money."

"But you do it just for money, or do you also like it?"

"I am gay, sir!" he said with a certain emphasis.

"Who knows how many times you don't like the customers but you have to
go with them all the same!"

"We can also refuse, if we want."

The desire to make love had subsided. That boy was really handsome, more
than handsome, but his evident sadness blocked me completely.

"Why are you sad?

"Oh no, sir, I am not sad!" he said making an effort to assume a
cheerful tone that made me feel more worse the sadness before.

I had paid for all the night with him so I pulled out the bed. He
started to undress and I too undressed. We remained with only our
underpants on. He had a fine body, just a little too thin. We hit the
bed.

"What do you want me to do, sir?"

"Nothing. If you feel like we can chat some more, then we will sleep."

"You don't like me, sir?"

"Yes, I like you. But I prefer this way."

"If I go back immediately, they will give you back a part of your
money."

"No, I'd like you to remain here."

"As you want, sir."

I shut off the light. Our bodies were barely brushing. His warmth gave
me pleasure, but I was not aroused. We resumed talking. About a thousand
things and about nothing. He told me something about himself, about when
he was a child, about Thailand. I told him about my journeys, about my
studies.

He was amazed knowing that I could speak so many languages. "Also Thai,
sir?"

"No, unless you teach me..." I said jokingly.

"All right, willingly, sir. If you have some spare time, in the
afternoon between two and six I am free."

"And how much do you charge, per lesson?" I asked, always jokingly.

"I am not a real teacher. Eight hundred per hour, if you don't think it
too much."

I knew that a lesson in English from a native speaker was from four
thousand yen up. He made me feel a great tenderness. I preferred to
change the subject. We fell asleep late. When I woke up in the morning,
he was curling against me and I had a hard-on. I got up without waking
him and went to take a shower. I fixed a big breakfast and woke him up,
giving him a yukata to cover himself. He ate with an appetite.

"If you want, I can give you the first lesson now. Anyway I have nothing
else  to do. For free, of course. Breakfast was really good."

"All right. But only if you stay with me for lunch."

So, I took my first lesson of Thai. We spent an agreeable morning. Then
I took him out for lunch. And later we had a walk.

"When do you want your second lesson, sir?" he asked me, very seriously.

I thought he needed money, therefore I didn't have the courage to tell
him that I was just jesting. "For that price, let's say two hours every
two days - Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Is that okay?"

"Yes, sure. It makes 4,800 yen per week. I have to come at your place,
as I sleep in a dormitory."

We started to meet. He took his task very seriously. And as we were
seeing each other, as we got to know each other, he started to open with
me. He was always somewhat sad, but at times I could make him smile, and
he had such a very sweet smile. I liked him. He told me about his job.
Rather dreary. So one evening I decided to go back to where he worked
and to pay for him to spend another night out of there. When he saw me
he was surprised. When I said that I wanted him, he was amazed.

We went out to the street and he said, "Why? We meet every two days...
What need did you have to come here to spend all that money? With your
scholarship, you are not a rich man."

"I wanted you to spend a might out of there."

"Why?"

"Because I know you don't like it."

He said nothing. We went to my apartment. We looked for a while at TV,
then to sleep.

"Don't you feel like making love?" he asked me.

"I didn't go and bring you for that."

"And yet, I have the impression you like me."

"Sure I like you!"

"I don't understand, then. I like you."

"Do we need having sex? Don't you have too much of it?"

"But I'll do it willingly, with you. I think I would like it."

"I... I know I'll like it."

"So then?"

"This is exactly my problem..."

Darkness helped me to talk. I told him my story, my doubts, my trouble.
He listened in silence, without interrupting me, just murmuring from
time to time a "mh!" to let me understand he was following what I was
saying.

When I stopped talking, he just said, "Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you?" I asked somewhat taken aback.

"Yes, to tell me such intimate things, it means that you trust me."

We again were silent for a long while, then he said, "Therefore I too
can trust you."

"Sure you can." I said thinking he too wanted to confide something to
me.

But again a long silence followed. Then he curled against me and
murmured, with a drowsy voice, "Good night, Kim."

"Night San," I felt him falling asleep. His warmth, the contact with his
body, aroused me. But I managed to fall asleep.

We continued our Thai lessons - I liked this new language, it was
fascinating me. I bought some books, a grammar, a dictionary, I did my
homework and he corrected it. I was starting to say my first sentences
in Thai. At times we went to the movies together. We started to spend
together his free day and that night he stopped at my place. And one
morning, waking almost at the same time, he noticed I was aroused.

Then he whispered, "I would like making love with you. If you like it,
why to make so many problems for yourself? Is it so important to know if
you are gay or not? You like it, do it. I would be so happy, I would
like it very much with you!" and so saying he lightly caressed me.

I too caressed him. Gradually our caresses became more intimate, I let
myself go and we made love. He made me take him, I asked him to take me.
It was really beautiful. At daylight, looking at each other. I saw him
smiling, serene, and for the first time, even happy.

Where we were relaxing, he curled again against me and said, "Wasn't it
beautiful?"

"Yes, it was."

"You see?" he said lightly. Then squeezing more against my body, said,
"We will do it again, right?"

"I think so."

What was different? I was starting to accept myself, thanks to him, but
why? What did he give me, say to me, do to me that was special? For sure
San was a special boy. Why did he have such a life? I couldn't
understand, something escaped me. He always talked me about his life in
Thailand, then about his life in Japan, but never about the reason that
pushed him to go to Japan.

He told me about a month later, after we again made love. I didn't have
any regret or crisis after making love with him. I felt good.

That time, so, after we made love, we shut off the light, then he said
me, "I always thought I hated Japan, and instead it is thanks to Japan I
have met you. Every cloud has a silver lining. I am happy I met you,
staying here with you. But you, in a few months... you will go away,
right?"

"Unhappily."

"Yes. And everything will be like before."

"Why do you have this life? Why do you remain in Japan, if you don't
like it?"

"Why?" he echoed me, and he told me.

He was fifteen years old. He liked men, for a year he had had various
adventures. That year he met a Japanese tourist, a thirty year old man,
beautiful. He grew fond of him, The man seemed also fond of him. And
proposed him to go with him to Japan - he would find him a good job. San
was enthusiastic. The man went to talk with his parents, who gave their
assent to arrange a passport for San. He obtained a tourist visa and he
left with the man for Tokyo. Here, the sad surprise - the man kept his
passport and put him to work where I found him. And the man received
from the manager all the money that San earned. He put him to sleep in a
room (the famous dormitory) with other boys that he had cheated in the
same way. Without documents, his visa expired, he was a clandestine.
They told him that the police could arrest him and put him in a minors'
prison for years. Moreover, one of the boys of the dormitory who tried
to run away, had been caught and thrashed in front of the other boys,
Nobody else tried any more to run away.

I felt so bad - could such people exist in the world? I embraced him
tightly. I didn't know what to say. But I had to do something. I didn't
want to give him false hopes, but... Therefore for the moment I said
nothing. In the following days I started to gather information on the
problem of clandestine immigration, of exploitation, of prostitution,
above all of minors.

Meanwhile another thing happened. Just a few days before, and without
much hope, I filled in a form I found in our school for translators and
simultaneous interpreters to get a job at the U.N.O. I attached my
resume and sent it. The answer came - they seemed interested in me and
would give me a return air ticket to New York for a test-interview. If I
was interested I had to send a fax. In five days I got the air ticket
and I went to New York for three days. The interview went well. They
offered me a good position, starting from the first of January of the
following year, that is three months later. It could possibly be
irrelevant, but on the other hand...

I obtained the information I wanted for San's case, I spoke with him -
he could safely go to the police. They would protect him, keeping him in
a safe place (and not send him to prison) for all the time of the
inquiries, then without charging him, they would send him back to
Bangkok,. Therefore he could easily free himself from that hateful
situation.

He shook his head, "They have contacts in Thailand, they would kill me
once I was there."

I didn't think of that. So for sure, all my project came to nothing. And
my departure for New York was approaching. But perhaps I could take him
with me. So I told San of my thouughts.

He listened, then said, "You really would take me with you?"

"Yes, of course. Listen, the police will give you back your passport. We
will go together to Bangkok. We'll obtain there the visa for the United
States and we'll go to New York together."

"But what can I do in America?"

"As long as you can't find a job, you can just live with me, so you will
not have money problems."

We discussed some more, but at the end he stuck to my plan. I contacted
a Japanese association of volunteers who took care of such cases. They
found us a lawyer who explained to us in detail what we had to do. I
made him meet San at my place. The lawyer at once accompanied him to the
police. All was set in motion.

A police raid also freed San's companions and caught the men who had
organized that vile commerce. They also found all the boys' documents.
The process was celebrated just ten days after San went with the lawyer
to the police. The boys were all repatriated. On advice of the lawyer I
took an earlier flight and was waiting for San at Bangkok airport. As
soon as he landed I took him to my hotel. San was exhausted but excited
and happy. He said that he missed me terribly in those weeks. I too
missed him very much. Then we went by taxi to apply for his visa. In
Thailand he was now of age, so we didn't have problems. San made a quick
visit to see his parents and then at last we could leave for New York.

At first we lived in a cheap hotel, but soon the U.N.O. found an
apartment for me and we moved there. San started to look for a job. He
didn't find work at once, it took him almost six months.

But one day he came back home radiant, "I found a job, starting the day
after tomorrow."

"Very good, I'm happy! What's it?"

"I'll do strip-tease in a gay club; the pay is good."

I honestly felt bad, "You don't want to start again that life, San!"

He looked at me as if I said something outrageous. "Hey, look, I put
things in clear - first of all they hire me with a legal contract and
therefore I'll get a work visa. Second, I said clearly that I'm game to
undress in front of the customers, but not to go in their beds or in the
manager's or anybody else's. They told me that those are just my
problems, and that they just put on a serious show and not a tour of
call-boys. They were almost offended."

"Yes, but in that ambience..." I said.

He smiled me, "I want to be only yours... for nobody else. Because I
love you."

"You love me?"

"I do, Kim."

So I could tell him what I felt in me for him, already from Tokyo, "I
think I am in love with you too, my sweet San."

But I was not yet completely at ease. I wanted to check the club
personally - but it really seemed all regular. So San started his job.
He had never any problems. At times I went to watch him - he was really
skilled.

Our relationship strengthened. Three years later he found a job as a
waiter, and stopped doing strip-tease. I didn't ask anything, but of
course I was more happy now, and he guessed that.

Meanwhile I, in my spare time, started to write my poems, many inspired
by San. And started to have my first successes - my first book was
published just when San changed his job. The following year (I was now
twenty-seven and San twenty two) I took part to an international
competition of poetry and, as you know, I won the first prize. I
received requests for publication, translations of my poems, I started
to earn good money and all this demanded more and more of my time and
energy. To help me, San resigned from his job and, besides doing all the
house work to leave me more free time, he typed into the computer my
texts and made himself useful in a thousand ways. Moreover, I was happy
having him always at home.

In the end, I resigned from the U.N.O. job and dedicated myself full
time to poetry. I could now live comfortably with the earnings from my
books. So, that is my story.

Q. Really breathtaking! Thank you Kim. I would like now to ask you
something about your poetry. You said that many poems are inspired by
San. Can you explain this point better?

A. Yes, before meeting San I never wrote a poem. I knew and read the
poems of the various literatures I was studying and I loved that and
without any doubt this built inside me a basic structure, but as for the
"poetical vision" of things, that I got from San. Poetry, like any other
form of representation (prose, painting, and so on) can be symbolic or
realistic. But it assumes in whoever produces it the ability to
interpret reality, to interact with reality, to grasp its essential
points, to present them using a certain technique. San, even if he never
wrote poems, is a real poet. Possibly not in the "literature" meaning of
this word, but he is. Let's say that he has a "poetic vision" of life.
Feeling this in him, admiring him, and assimilating it, has been a
natural process for me. Differently from him, I started to put black on
white and now I am considered a poet.

Q. Some of your poems are strongly colored with an erotic charge. Others
aren't so at all. Some contain crude anatomical descriptions, others are
highly symbolic. Why these differences?

A, Because poetry is life and in life you don't live only eroticism or
genitalism. I think that your problem turns on these two points. I'll
give an example -I can write a poem on "today I'm happy, sun shines, I
feel all is beautiful" and then going on "my boy is near me, I love him,
I feel loved" and on yet again "I look at him and am stirred up, I
desire him, I want him" and then also "his hard cock is beautiful,
pleasurable, I feel it inside me and I feel good" and you can express
all that in a realistic, figurative way, or in a symbolic way, or as you
feel at that moment. I can't find a contradiction in all of that. What
difference is there in describing the sensations of a blue sky and of a
warm sun on your body, and that of a cock entering you? In my opinion,
there is no difference. Both are beautiful and real sensations. And
worthy of being sung.

Q. What is then the boundary between art and pornography, in your
opinion?

A. It is all is inside each of us. Inside who, in my case, writes the
words and later inside whoever reads them. Not in what I describe, nor
in how I describe it, but in the "why". I mean that the obscene, defined
as what offends one's decency, depends on the sense of modesty, and that
changes from people to people, from place to place, from epoch to epoch.
Therefore obscenity doesn't exist as such, in itself. The same decency
can be the aversion of one's soul to filthy and dishonest things.
Violence is obscene, war is obscene, exploitation is obscene, drugs are
obscene. And remember that obscene means ugly, disfigured. But what is
ugly, or disfigured, or dishonest in sex? Sex could be like that, of
course, not of itself - but in the way it is lived. Remember that at the
beginning of the twentieth century a man in his shirt sleeves or a woman
showing her ankles offended decency...

Q. Don't you think that some of your poems can offend the sense of
decency of somebody? For sure not mine, anyway...

A. Certainly, and I am sorry for that somebody - in my poems I don't
want to show anything ugly, disfigured, dishonest; quite the opposite.
Whoever doesn't understand that... well, I pity him.

Q. Do you agree with the definition of Paul Englisch who said, "It is
obscene all that is in conscious contrast with the dominant morals, and
has as a goal the physiological excitement of the sex and is able to
reach this goal"?

A, Evidently not. He abuses the words. First, because in his definition,
war, which is the really obscene thing, doesn't have a place. Second,
the contrast with the dominant morals is a source of progress - if we
all simply followed the dominant morals, for instance, women could not
show their ankles nor men go around without a jacket. Third, I can't see
what evil there is in the physiological excitement of sex - if that was
evil, just thinking that a person attracts me and arouses me, would be
an obscene fact! Fourth, if an obscene production exists, whether it
reaches its goal or not is beside the point... To me, I repeat,
obscenity is all that exalts ugliness, deformity and dishonesty. And
anyway there would be much to discuss about what is ugly or deformed. To
me, obscene is all that injures, destroys.

Q. Well, thank you so very much, Kim. And best wishes for your books. I
know you are writing a new one. Can we know its title? A. It will be
published at the same time in six countries. Its title is "One,
everyone". In short, in those poems I say that in loving one, in him I
love everybody.

Q. Good, we hope we can read it soon.

A. Thank you."

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 6

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In my home page I've put some more of my stories.
If someone wants to read them, the URL is

http://andrejkoymasky.com

If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English
translations, so that I can put on-line more of my  stories in English
please e-mail at

andrej@andrejkoymasky.com

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