Terminal http://wp.me/s2PGWg-terminal
Ti si u redu.
Tebi opraštam što ti se više ni ne setim lika.
Njima ne opraštam što liče na tebe.
To rade podmuklo i nehajno.
Ti si u redu.
Tebi opraštam što si prošao kroz kapiju za ukrcavanje u svet.
Sebi ne opraštam što sam kroz istu kapiju pošla drugim…
They where lying on the grass. Lazy and sunny afternoon had brought silence in their limbs and lips. After a while he spoke.
- Why are you so distant?
- Lately, traveling had been… -she took her time choosing the word carefully - well challenging I think. Traveling in my mind was always easy.
- Where are you now? - he asked while examining sunshine breaking on her nose line. She rolled on her hip and propped up smiling like a little child asked to recite freshly memorized song.
- Have you heard of Wonderland in China? - he shook his head, so she continued - there is a gigantic project started some years ago in Beijing. They wanted to build the world’s biggest Asian version of Disneyland, but some interests conflicted and it was never finished. Now there is this big fairy tale land that is half castles half concrete with reinforcement sticking out, stuck in the middle of corn fields, unattended, forgotten. I find that fascinating. I can relate. Most of the time I feel like fairy tale never completed, left alone in the middle of fields, invisible to people who live and work there already gotten used to idea that I am there with no purpose. Just… uncompleted. - she said that almost in a single breath.
- I can complete you - he said smiling, reaching to unbutton her shirt. She stopped him.
- I don’t mean like that. I don’t want to be completed like that.
- What do you want than? - he asked a but frustrated. He was hoping for some grass rolling, not for girlish teenage philosophy.
- In a way I am completed, as is that Wonderland. I find ruins beautiful. They have so much more character than new, plastic, soulless things. If Wonderland is to be finished as it was planned, it will be just cheap fun to everyone who want it, and can afford it. I wouldn’t like that. Now it’s inspiration for wanderers. It suits the name, doesn’t it? It is a muse for poets, photographers and lost travelers… daydreamers.
He was reaching for her shirt again, and she was removing his hand again, now laying on her back, trying to find a cloud shaped like a tower, or a camera, or anything that would fit her wild imagination wrapped around The Wonderland. He lost his patience entirely.
- So you don’t want to… We’re not gonna…?
- Nope. Not really.
- So why did you bring me here?
- For some cloud gazing.
- I’m too old for this shit. I don’t need this! - he spoke in anger while standing up and shaking off the grass caught on his pants. He reached for the keys in his pocket. - Seriously? You will just lie there? You’re going home by foot!
- I don’t mind it. It’s a beautiful day.
He walked away in anger. Soon she heard the sound of the car starting, and than driving away. She was still staring into the clouds, expressionless. She did mind a bit, since she was always hoping that any person she meets might be her soul mate. But she wasn’t disturbed. Her mind was in place.
- And just like that The Wonderland stays protected from the greedy, shallow, cheap-fun-seekers - she mumbled to herself. Indeed it was a beautiful day for a long walk.
Danas sam šetala obalom i posmatrala ugarke mostova koje sam spalila. Svaki čovek je ostrvo. Bacala sam kamenčiće u vodu sa željom da mi se učine tvoji koraci koji je prelaze. Tolike sam ti moći podarila da i po vodi možeš hodati. No zaboravila sam zvuk tvog hoda čak i po suvom tlu.
Danas sam se setila tebe. Tebe neizmenjenog mojim sećanjima u godinama koje su iza mene. Setila sam se zašto sam te, od svih na svetu, bez mostarine pustila da dolaziš i odeš po volji. I poslednji kamenčić sam pohranila u džep, da se tog sećanja dotaknem nežno, kad bezbrižno u džepove zaronim rukama uz zvižduk pokisle vilinske pesme. Noći još uvek mirišu na lavandu, ovde na ostrvu svakog čoveka.
Od kad sam te otrgla iz svoje duše,
Unutra je tišina, praznina…
A nešto raste u ženi u meni,
I šapće da može da te zameni
Na mom satu.
Prošli put je trebalo samo 14 976 sati
Da moja podsvest shvati da neko nije tu.
Srušila sam sve mostove ka tebi,
Da oduzmem sve načine sebi
Da budem tvoja senka koja čeka…
Jer nešto raste u ženi u meni,
Nešto što ne sme da pati,
Pa ne smem sebi dati da na tebe budem meka.
Ali ta tišina iz praznog mesta gde je bilo tvoje mesto,
Meškolji se nešto, diže prašinu.
Govori o načinu na koji ostaješ na meni kao ožiljak,
U oku, i na osmehu, i tegovi na udahu izmedju smejanja…
Nešto je procvetalo iz žene iz mene,
Nešto što volim, čega se bojim, i sa čim rastem.
Samo ponekad imam potrebu da se od te tišine spasem.
Danas me ništa ne pitaj. Moje oči su pune magle sa drugih prostora. Danas mi nedostaje. Više nego najlepše igre iz detinstva. Više nego najsenzualnihi poljubac na unutrašnjoj strani butine. Ona koja te okupa svojim hladnim i vlažnim dahom dok koračaš oronulim ulicama i zamrznutom obalom. Ona koja te zavede večerima što počinju popodne i u tebi posadi večitu želju za bosim stopalima. Ljudi su mali i prolazni. Oni su prolazili kroz moje živote. I ja kroz njihove. I nekad bi trebalo puno vremena da se sa suncem i kišama izravnaju duboke brazde koje su ostavili u mom životu. Ali ona je zemlja. Zemlja po kojoj se hoda i oblak po kojem hodam, dok hodam po svojoj zemlji. Volela sam do bola. I neke ljubavi još bole. Ali ništa nalik njoj. Ona koja se zove letom, a sanja pod velom zime. U tebi ostavlja čežnju koja i najtužnije dane pretvara u balade. Pesme koje želiš da slušaš i ako te beskrajno razbole.
Moving on was so much easier before the time of virtual-all-network-connectivity! I use virtual communication since dial-up time. But I also remember analog time, when you could hope not to meet a person, and succeed in it for quite few years. How does one gently interrupt all communication with a person you are not mad at, but you need to erase from your life, just so you could make some space for new one?
I liked not having to make it as a decision in the real world. You could just not go to some place, or just say this stupid, intentionally uncomfortable “Hi, how are you?”, not really listening to answer, to let a relationship die. You didn’t need to know about articles they are reading, music they listen, their emotional state, or how much weight they gained judging by latest “summer&friends” album. There was nothing to remind you that they are person you like. That you had this summer, few summers ago.
Now, if you want to kill virtual connection to already dead relationship, you need to get comfortable with an idea that someday, somehow you will need to explain why you did it. You wont be able to lie by saying that you forgot about that because you went to all 23 facebook-youtube-twitter-tumblr-flicker-linkedin-skype-msn-or-what-ever profiles, and after giving it few seconds of thinking and nostalgia, really, manually, pressed “disconnect/unfriend/unfollow/block”.
It is more likely to change your mind, and just decide to ignore conntact. Why should you be the one to do it? If you do it, does it mean it matters? Oh… look, I like this song! We listened it together while… Hmmm I could comment. Is that smart? Better leave it this way for a while.
Fuck! I like staying in touch, but I don’t want to know things people share about themselves anymore. I’m interested in things they would like to share with me! I don’t want to need to decide 23 times that “this is for the best”. So much work to do, saving all those photos you have together, not uploaded by you. Its mostly the reason I haven’t pressed that “unfriend” button to some people. And probably the reason so many of them didn’t unfriend me… yet.
I will get her a present, to tell her „thank you for being brought to this world, and making it a better place for me”. But than, I guess I would need to get a present to her parents, to tell them „thank you for having romantic time that one time, that eventually brought Una to this world“.
I want to get her something sweet, smelling like strawberry, but tasting like a passionate kiss, but something that you wouldn’t eat. Something that will stay for ever. I will rap it up into her ever-shining smile, and tie a bow on top, as she ties her hair into messy tail when deciding to go to „Fontain“ at last minute.
And I will write her a card, only dots and commas will be those charming little black dots she puts under her tear line when she is doing her make up. I am even thinking about making a kiss-mark, heart shaped, as her lips turn into heart when she is thinking about how to answer a question. But I don’t think I will do that. That could be too much. And taken the wrong way.
Oh what a present will that be. It will bring her joy as she is making me joyful, and it will always get her attention, as she gets mine, yelling across the street to her neighbor. And when they see it in her room, they will want it, as they want her after only knowing her for few seconds.
She is a smart girl, so this present needs to be intelligent. But I still don’t know what is her favorite kind of smart. Or her favorite kind of funny. She seems to rule them all equally good and pleasurable. Hmmm…
I want to buy her something valuable. Priceless. Where is my wallet? Oh… Shit! The only thing I have in my wallet are my fingers reaching for…well… not enough…
My fingers? What use I have of them? They can give nothing but … well… a massage, a dinner, a sign, a shoulder tapping… or some meaningless words on keyboard.
But wait. I really mean this. So they are not meaningless. And how silly am I? There is no gift in this world that could match or represent Una! I will tell her that my gift to her is realizing just what kind of gift she is to this world, and to me. And she is a smart girl. She will understand.
Daudz laimes dzimšanas dienā Una Melne!
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Valjda sam se tek sad pomirila sa idejom da si stvarno otišao. I ne samo to da si otišao, već da sam se krijući od sebe upinjala da izguram iz svog života one delove tebe koji su ostali. Imam običaj da budem takva. A oboje to znamo. No postoje stvari koje sam dobila od tebe, i koje nikada neće prestati da budu deo mene. Tri mudra dara. Ne pravim insinuacije.
Prvi je borba. Ne znam da li si ikada shvatio koliki si mi bio uzor. Odlučila sam da ti budeš Che sa onog postera koji imam na zidu svake svoje sobe. Svi su mogli da me ubedjuju, ne bi vredelo. Ti si bio primer. Ti si znao šta je ispravno i šta nije, i nisi se libio, ne da to kažeš, nego da staneš uspravan i raširenih ramena na svojim grudima i u po kojem plućnom krilu zaustaviš svo zlo ovog sveta. I nikada nisi sebi davao ordene za to. Takav, podsetio si me na strast koju sam nekad nosila u sebi. Bez reči, objasnio si mi da sam umrla u sebi. Bez reči, objasnio si mi da sam u moralnim špekulacijama i raspravama došla do momenta u kome je sve relativno. Objasnio si mi da je to bilo moje sivo - jer to dobiješ kad umrljaš sve boje zajedno. Uz tebe su se razdvojile. Uz tebe su postale duga. U nekom pismu sam ti napisala da sam te u povorci pratila. Lagala sam. Ponosno sam koračala pored tebe, ne gledajući u tebe, već u boje onoga što mi znači, boje koje sam ponovo jasno mogla da vidim. Hvala ti što si bio primer.
Drugi je nikad-neistina. “Biće sve u redu. Obećavam”. To sam naučila od tebe. Nisam imala pojma koliko je potrebno ljudima da to čuju, dok nisam to čula od tebe. I smetalo mi je. U početku sam bila toliko ljuta kad si to govorio. Mislila sam “Ko si ti da to obećaš?”. Ovih dana govorim to ljudima više nego ikad. I shvatam da ja nisam niko da to obećam. Ali shvatam da to nije do mene. Život je takav da posle svakog sranja dodje momenat kad bude sve u redu. Nekad je potrebno samo malo više vremena. Ali “Biće sve u redu.” nikad nije laž, i shodno tome, moguće je obećati. A kad neko posle “Biće sve u redu.” čuje i “Obećavam.”, to pomaže da skoro momentalno stvari počnu da postaju u redu. Hvala ti na tome. Zalečio si me, i dao si mi lek da ga širim dalje.
Treći je shvatanje da postoje ljudi sa kojima možeš imati iskren i potpun odnos. Makar sam ja tako shvatala naš. I kao što verujem da za svakog od nas postoji serija pravih ljudi, ali samo jedna prava kombinacija, tako verujem da nege postoji jedno koleno i jedno uvo za moj pazuz i moj prst. Hvala ti na osećaju uklapanja. U ovom momentu mi nije bitno da li je isti bio moja iluzija.
I to bi bilo to. Hvala. Sada te zaista puštam da odeš. Mada nije da ti je trebala dozvola za to.
Uz masivni napad iz zvučnika,
i omote bombona pored kreveta,
sutra ću biti drugačija,
drugačije nego pre drugačija…
Licem oljuštenih dlanova,
i filmom ispletenog uzglavlja,
noćas ću sanjati drugačija,
dalje nego pre drugačija…
Zbog nekih zakasnelih istina,
i očiju slepih za shvatanja,
čekam drugačiju drugačijost,
jer već sam drugačije drugačija…
I wanted to make your wounds into jewels.
Instead, your jewels became my wounds.
You never understood nothing.
You thought you where hurt.
It is now I tell you - my pride is what died first.
You didn’t see your victim - the one that you rejected,
When shell of what I was got you resurrected.
My stupid little boy, what you think this life is?
You where fighting war just to get the prizes.
You dishonored a solder for not shaking your hand.
Have anyone told you his went off with your grande?
Vatra iznutra ima plave oči.
I olovne zenice što se tope i istaču,
Što se liju i preliju u tvoje zenice,
I učine ih olovnim.
Vatra iznutra ima i usne i prste.
I hiljade vrcavih neobuzdanih jezika
Što ogavno izbalave i kosu, i kožu, i kosti,
Dok te ona liže pokretom pohotnim.
Vatra iznutra nema šta da kaže.
Samo u njenoj duši čak ni ne zuje uši,
Ali te posle uhodi i prati, i ceri ti se
Pucketnjem grohotnim.
Vatra iznutra je nimfa, i sfinga i muza
Što te ostavi bez daha,
I nudiš sve odgovore na pitanje koje nisi ni čuo,
I nudiš žrtvu na oltar straha.
Vatra iznutra je kletva.
Ona je sav život što postoji.
Dovoljna takva kakva jeste,
Tim olovnim očima te zauvek boji.
Kladim se da ti niko za Novu godinu nije poželeo jednostavno da živiš. Ja ti to iskreno želim! Želim ti da hodaš bos i da se noću kupaš u hladnom Baltiku. Želim ti da vidiš oblake toliko blizu zemlji da misliš da možeš da ih uhvatiš. Da osetiš olakšanje kad shvatiš da već par sati nisi pomislio na tu osobu; da osećaš kako će jednom skroz proći. Želim ti da u osami shvatiš da nisi dosadno društvo, i da nadješ komad zemlje koji ćeš da prepleviš, i seme što ćeš da posadiš. Želim ti da od vetra u ušima zaboraviš kako zvuči tišina. Želim ti da ponovo osetiš strah kad posle sto godina sedneš na vrh brda oklevajući da se spustiš zajedno sa klincima koji se neustrašivo sankaju. Želim ti da nekome promeniš život na bolje, da oboje to znate, ali da nikada o tome ne progovorite - da pronadjete za to reči u pogledu punom uzajamnog poštovanja. Želim ti da ne odustaneš od prve tri velike i komplikovane stvari koje te budu izazvale (slutim da će za četvrti upornost da postane navika). Želim ti da se zaljubiš u jedno kuče zvano Bobi, i da te neko povede na klizanje. Želim ti da otkriješ da možeš da pratiš ritam na džambe-u i da opržiš jam session kad ti se ekipa spontano skupi. Ne želim ti da eksplodiraš sa gasnom rernom, ali ti želim da naučiš one lekcije koje ovakvo iskustvo nosi. Želim ti da preletiš okean, da pobediš samog sebe, i da se suptilno zavučeš nekom u srce. I još ti želim da prebrojiš sve pahulje ove zime, i da sklopiš pakt sa uličnim svetlima.
Eto, to ti želim! I još ponešto, ali o tome drugi put ;)
Bila je, kažu, u tom selu jedna čudna starica. Nisu znali mnogo o njoj. Kad joj je bilo petnaest, doselila se sa bratom. Kupili su malu kućicu na kraju sela, i nisu često dolazili medj` svet. Da je raja znala šta je umetnost, možda bi ih zvali umetnicima. Ovako, ostali su samo čudaci. O njima su kružile ne baš prijatne priče. Jer godine su prolazile, on se nije ženio, niti se ona udavala. Svašta su jezici o njima pleli. Retko su se dali sresti, ali kad jesu - uvek su bili zajedno. Onda je on jednom otišao da donese drva iz šume i više se nije vratio. Tada je sestra krenula da silazi u grad, da traži pomoć, da moli ljude da organizuju potragu. Nisu je ignorisali, ali se niko nije pretrgao. Često je šetala noću sama šumom. Na kraju je počela da pije i da priča čudne priče. Ljudi su joj se smejali, i rado sa njom terali šegu, mada postoje i oni koji misle da je ona sve vreme terala šegu sa njima. Najupamćenije je ostalo kako je pričala da je jedan dan umrla živa. I svake godine je baš na taj isti dan davala sama sebi godišnjicu smrti. Napokon je i ona nestala. No nekome je bilo simpatično kako bi baš na na badnje veče sišla u seosku kafanu i platila piće kome god se zatekao tamo. Kad je ona nestala, ljudi su nastavili da piju u njeno ime. I danas svrte na badnje veče, samo na jednu “umrlicu” kako je starica prozvala, i odu svojim životima. Ko zna, možda neko od njih pije za godišnjicu svoje smrti, samo to ne govori javno.
U uzdah stane dah ipo,
I nastavlja da broji.
U osmeh stane dvadesetak zuba,
A širok osmeh i više broji.
U autobus stane dovoljno ljudi,
A ko zakasni taj se ne broji.
U dve ruke stane puno brojeva,
Kada se tek uči da se broji.
U bol stane trista deset dana,
I biće nikad ne prestaje da broji.
Sve zavisi ko broji.
A neko i ne broji.
