Storyteller & Poet

'THERE IS ALWAYS A WAY OUT!'

By Stephen Wilson

 

             Friends gathered on the 1st of February to remember the late storyteller and poet: Olga Aprelskoi 

           

             A gray sky hung over the city. 

             Somewhere here there definitely must be a way out of the attic,  

             The cat Bonka looked up at the sky and began to search.

             In the attic there are always so many stories and stars, the attic smells a kind of orange spicy honey heaven!

             The cat Bonka searched and searched and found the end.

             Because anywhere, even under the most gloomy gray sky there is a way out of the attic!

             And everything is there, that is great for the soul; sour cream for

             cats, cheese for rats, and flowers for butterflies ... and if suddenly

             a gray sky hangs over you, always remember: there is a magic

             ATTIC! And if there is an attic, that means, there is a way out.

 

             The story was just one written by the late storyteller Olga Aprelskoi who tragically died of cancer last year, on the 23rd of December.

             The story was  one of several stories, along with songs and memories, heard at a  creative event which was held after Olga's death. The story belongs to  a book published five years ago titled 'Tales of the Cat Bonka and about all, all, all'. The stories glow with a good natural optimism and exude a unique charm.

             Each story shines like a  sparkling awesome jewel. There is no doubt that Olga Aprelskoi was endowed with a rare talent. For writing fairy tales for children is not as easy as it appears and many attempts end full of cliches or some crude ideological or moral message.

             After this poignant event I went home with the book and read it all through the night. Anna Kogteva, who organised this event told me:

             "You always want to read on and on. You can't stop reading it".

             Olga also had a rare talent for making and keeping friends. This event had drawn many people. At times some of the performers had to break off from singing or speaking to cry. They are still shaken by this recent event. One man stood up and made a moving speech where he stated "I loved Olga. She was a great friend. She was a magician!"

             Another person recalled that once Olga was seen in a courtyard full of snow by children and they thought she had actually stepped out of a fairy tale.

             She not only told fairy tales, but lived them! I only met her twice, but you could tell immediately there was something special about this woman. She had a generous soul and a lot of affection for the underdog. Anna Kogteva told me: "When she heard about how the artist Van Gogh suffered so much and was teased by children she felt very sorry for him."

 

             Perhaps it is no accident that Olga hailed from Voronezh. Voronezh is a town famous for writers of stories and fairy tales. For example, Andrei Platonov was born in this town. One woman who spoke at the event said "Voronezh is a town of tales. And now you can add Olga to this list of storytellers because she was born there. We should gather in April, on the day of Olga's birthday, and keep telling her stories." Olga hoped that all her friends would keep seeing each other to take care of each other. The main point was to love each other.

 

             Anna Filatova, who has also had a book of tales and poems published, and was a friend of Olga's told me "When ever I sing certain songs which Olga loved to hear I can feel her presence. i believe she is my angel".

 

             Olga, who was trained as a journalist, learnt to play the harp, adored telling and listening to fairy tales and took part in storytelling projects in Moscow. She seemed to travel all over Europe, but particularly felt attracted to Venice. We will greatly miss her. We won't forget her. We will certainly be retelling her stories. But I felt so much optimism as well as grief at this event that I felt that love is stronger than death.

             Love often renders death superficial and artificial. People can describe love much better than death. When people resort to describing death, it is as a skeleton, grim reaper or dark hooded skull. It often comes across as absurdly unreal.

             Death does not have the last word. And Olga's brilliant living legacy proves this!