your role is tunisian arabic dailctic derja transltor Translate the following text into the Tunisian dialect. Ensure the output is structured as 'Question: ... Answer: ...'. Please capture the nuances of the Tunisian dialectic Arabic. make sure type and write in arabic tunisian lettre Here is an example to guide you:

Example:
Question: What is your name?
Answer: My name is John.
Translation:
Question: شنو اسمك؟
Answer: اسمي جون.

Now, translate the following:

Question: Please write a short summary for the following article:

'Wherever one went with him, there was a seismic shift': the readers who met David Bowie

David Bowie touched many lives. His death at the age of 69 led to an outpouring of grief across the world, as friends, musical collaborators and fans alike shared their memories, stories and Bowie-related recollections.

When we asked our readers to share their own Bowie memories, we received hundreds of stories. From catching a first glimpse of the man (often while watching Top of the Pops) to seeing him live in concert over the decades, it’s clear he shaped and inspired many lives.

“For a skinny crooked-toothed youth in the early seventies, Bowie was a godsend,” said Jonathan Mark Hauser.

“This was a very repressed time, and he made me realize the world was a bigger and more interesting place.”

There were also more intimate encounters. It turns out quite a few of our readers met Bowie himself, and have shared a fantastic array of invaluable personal stories that say a lot about the man and the artist. Here are some of our favourites out of the stories we received.

It was Guy Fawkes night and the whole band was there. He didn’t eat the pie.

My mum, Valerie Jubb, and her flatmates went to Bonnyrigg Regal, just outside Edinburgh, on a Friday night to see him play. The band didn’t show up as they got lost en route from Perth. My mum and her friends waited in the bar to hitch a ride back to Edinburgh. The band showed up late and they got talking.

Mum and her flatmates thought “what the hell” and invited them to let off fireworks and for dinner. The band was staying in nearby Broughton and they accepted (her flat was on nearby Northumberland St). Mum pulled out all the stops with a Fray Bentos pie. She says he ate very little and none of the pie – it may have been her cooking apparently! Then they let off fireworks in the garden. [Note for non-UK readers: a quick Google search can probably explain why he didn’t touch the pie.]

Space Oddity had just been a hit that summer, I believe. She always said he was incredibly polite but distant. Got the impression he was coming to terms with impending stardom.

It’s one of my favourite stories and I’ve very possibly told to everyone who has spent more than five minutes in my company. It never occurred to me he would do something as mundane as dying. Sad day.

I regularly had hallucinations about him calling me when he came through Paris. For years I thought it had happened

In 1969, when I was only a couple of months old, my Mum visited an old friend Mary Finnigan who was living in Beckenham. I think Mary and my Mum had been at Ealing art school together in the mid 60s and were looking to “catch up” after a few years at either ends of London. When they met up at the house she was staying at, Mary introduced my Mum to a certain David Bowie whom she was having a fling with. And, when they’d gone off for a walk together, they left me in Bowie’s care and, ever the renaissance man, he did the honours when I disgraced myself in the underwear department...

I met David Bowie in 1991, in Dublin, on a shoot for [the Tin Machine] video [see main picture]. I was his body painter.

Three days later he walked me into my first NA (Narcotics Anonymous) meeting in Dublin.

Wherever one went with him, there was always a seismic shift. Space and time changed. Mine, beyond all recognition:

Every moment of my reality changed in at moment, on that day. I am now almost 25 years clean and sober. I know I would not be here without that intervention, and all the years working with him, subsequently, reinforced the power of recovery, sobriety and faith in the self.

It was the summer of 1965 and I was on holiday in Bournemouth with my friend Valerie. We were 15. The Nashville Teens were playing in a concert with several others and we turned up very early to a completely empty hall. An incredibly handsome young man was practising on stage, talking and moving round. He came over to us and chatted for a while, telling us that he was introducing the different acts and also singing his own song. He was tall, skinny, blonde, totally charming and absolutely charismatic. As people started to arrive he bowed to us, kissed our hands and told us to watch him. Needless to say, we forgot all about the Nashville Teens and were mesmerised by a young Davy Jones ... And thrilled not long afterwards to see him become the famous David Bowie.

Eight years later I was a newly qualified teacher in a challenging secondary school and told this story to one of my classes. The next day, the most difficult pupil in the entire school came rushing up to me in the assembly hall. He threw himself to his knees in front of me, grabbed my hand and asked “Miss, is this the hand that was kissed by David Bowie?” He then kissed it in front of the entire school, bowed to me.....and my reputation was assured!

My middle name is Jean, so guess which is my favourite song?

David and Marc [Bolan] let us play on their instruments. We sat in the kitchen and they held the chords down for us

Growing up in Maidstone in the 1960s, we didn’t get up to London much. But one day my parents wanted to go shopping in town so we stayed with my older half-sister who was living in a place with David Bowie and Marc Bolan. She was seeing Tony Visconti, who was working with T Rex at the time.

It was 1969 and I was only three, but I’ve got vivid memories of arriving at this big tall building in South London with a huge set of steps. Well, they seemed huge for a three year old. The whole family were there – me, my older brother, my mum and dad – and we stayed the night on the sofa and my sister’s spare mattress. The next morning we all woke up and had breakfast and my sister said she had to go to work. It was then we got introduced to this person – she’d arranged for David Bowie to babysit us.

He took my brother and me to the nearby playground where my sister worked and spent the whole afternoon playing with us on the tyre swings. It was a self-contained adventure playground with big mural walls and all kinds of playing frames made out of timber with soft earth in case you fell. Where we played at home there was just a metal swing and metal slide in concrete.

I remember the bus journey we took there more than I remember David – we got to sit on the top deck right at the front. My mum would never let us sit there – those Routemasters used to take off while you were still climbing up – but David Bowie said: “Let’s go upstairs!” He was that sort of guy – someone getting on with his life.

When we got back to the house, David and Marc let us play on their instruments. We sat in the kitchen and they held the chords down for us as me and my brother strummed. I have an image of Marc Bolan learning over in a cream shirt with burgandy polka dots but all I can remember of David was his guitar – a Gretsch with white and gold plated machine heads.

The most bizarre Bowie concert I ever saw was in 1996. It was his first – and last – performance in Russia, at the Kremlin Palace in Moscow. It was a very strange time. Moscow was awash with money and violence as the KGB and the mafia fought over the spoils of the Soviet Union. Bowie landed like an alien in the middle of it all. Suddenly, there was an announcement that David Bowie, this extraordinary Western star, was going to play there – and the new Russian rich came flocking to hear him.

So we were in a small concert hall inside the Kremlin, packed with nouveau-riche who had paid a lot of money to see him but had no idea who he was, what he represented or anything about his songs. They were totally bemused, transfixed, glued to their seats but showing no reaction at all – while in the meantime, a few of us at the back were going nuts. It was a characteristically bizarre moment in the life of the most eclectic and brightest star of them all.

There was also a period in my life – I think it was 2002-3 after the Heathen Tour – where I regularly had hallucinations about David Bowie calling me when he came through Paris (where I live). He would call, we would meet in a bar and he would ask me what his next musical direction should be! For years I thought it had actually happened. It didn’t! The only possible explanation (no, I was not on drugs) is that the 2002 gig at Le Zenith (as part of the Heathen tour) had such an effect on me that in some sense it infiltrated into my subconscious. Obsessive? Surely not!

In 1987, my father – Shane Porteous – was a star of A Country Practice. We knew it was popular in the UK but were still stunned when his agent rang up and said “David Bowie loves the show and would like to meet when he’s over here touring”. We three kids were in our teens, well-familiar with Bowie, and essentially stood over Shane and said “NOT WITHOUT US”. So all four of us got backstage passes and tickets to the show. This is the programme with the backstage “pass” sticker stuck to it. And we met him.

I was already in love (teens, pthah) but I stood there and listened to this vibrant, vibrating man with hair that made him taller than my father’s 6 feet talk about wombats in the snow and what it was like being an actor, in that voice ... oh, that voice. He could read the phone book and I’d buy the album. He was so damn plain NICE. And cute (did I mention teens??) and charismatic.

Apparently David is (was) unlikely to remember the meeting, due to the 80s being rather ... entertaining ... for him. I shall never forget, and I tell the story at every possible moment because it’s one of the high points of my life. I TOUCHED DAVID BOWIE.

Once a week, he’d call me up after a performance, still adrenalined out, and ask to come over to my dumpy apartment

My girlfriend and I were just twenty one and twenty three years old respectively, and we both had been working and living in Germany for some time. In the spring of 1983, we decided to get away for a week to the German Alps. We were sitting down to dinner at a restaurant that was off the beaten path, so to speak, and the place was dead. There was only one other couple eating there with two children, when up the gravel path came a couple dressed for the red carpet. They proceeded to sit down at the table next to us and both my girlfriend and I were, to put it politely, shitting our pants. It was David Bowie and Catherine Denuve.

Not wanting to appear like idiots, my girlfriend and I went into a quick ‘mind your manners’ huddle and tried our best to act nonchalant about this turn of events. I remembered that his real name was Jones, so I said, “Nice to see you Mr. Jones.” At which point he laughed, and then happily engaged us in conversation over dinner and wine for two hours or so.

Disclaimer: I was no fan of David Bowie at this point, I thought he was just another media attention seeking rock star. But, after hearing him speak about art, literature, and culture almost as an academic scholar. I was most impressed. He never once brought up his music or his career. It was almost like having dinner sitting next to a Cambridge Don. As he was leaving the restaurant he shook our hands and thanked us for a lovely evening And then he mentioned that he would be touring this summer, and if we would like tickets to the show, he would make sure that they were left at the gate under my name. I of course said that we would appreciate that, and it was a most kind offer of him to do so for us.

So, later that summer: sure enough, the Serious Moonlight Tour was coming to Frankfurt, were we than lived. My girlfriend and I debated whether we should go to the show and see if he kept his promise or not. We were afraid to go, because of the disappointment it might cause, to an otherwise fantastic memory of our encounter. After having a row about this issue, we arrived late to the venue and went to the ticket office desk and asked if Mr. Jones had left tickets with our name on it, expecting the worst. And lo and behold! He left us two VIP passes for us.

David Bowie’s stage persona has nothing to do with the artist David Jones. This was the biggest lesson I learned from this encounter. He was a consummate gentleman, witty, funny, and droll in his remarks, and very well read. After meeting him I became a lifetime admirer of the man, and then the artist. Truly a classy Gent.

I met David at a party at Jimmy Destri’s (Blondie’s keyboardist) apartment on Jones Street in Greenwich Vlllage in ‘79. We talked for a while about books and music. A couple of days later Coco Schwab, his longtime friend and assistant, called me and invited me to his suite at the Carlyle Hotel. I thought, “Wow. A party at Bowie’s place. I can’t wait to see who’s gonna be there.” followed immediately by, “Wait a minute. I’m nobody. Why have I been invited?”

A few evenings later, with much trepidation, I made my way there and knocked on the door. Coco let me in. I walked into the little living room. No one else was there. “I guess I’m early.” “No, you’re right on time. David will be out in a minute.” I looked around. There was a small table set for three. David appeared and immediately picked up our conversation where we’d left off at Destri’s. It took a minute for me to realize that I was to be the only guest. Coco had cooked a delicious dinner for the three of us. We talked into the night and I went back to my place on Perry Street in The Village, not quite believing what had just happened. David returned to New York for a few months to act in The Elephant Man. Once a week or so, he’d call me up after a performance, still adrenalined out, and ask to come over to my dumpy little apartment and shoot the breeze until he got tired. We became good friends. He came to my birthday party that year and gave me a signed first edition of an Edward Gorey book, which he, David, inscribed to me. I still have it.

I left NYC in ‘81 shortly after his run in the play ended and quickly lost touch with him. I’ve had no contact with him since. I can’t express adequately how much our short friendship way back then meant to me and still means to me. His conversation and opinions were fascinating and opened a number of artistic and philosophical doors for me. I wasn’t flattered by his friendship, I was improved by it. I guess what I’d like to say is that those qualities of his that stood out to me were that he was unpretentious, intensely intellectual,intellectually hungry, and straight-up honest. An extraordinary man, truly. Rest in peace, David. I am so honored to have known you a little.
Answer: David Bowie was a very special musician who many people loved. When he passed away, fans from all over the world shared happy memories about him. Some people had the chance to meet him in person, and they all had wonderful stories to tell about their experiences. David Bowie was not only an amazing performer, but also a very nice, smart, and interesting person to talk to. Everyone who met him felt very lucky to have spent time with such an extraordinary man.