I have been moving around the world since almost 32 years. I have been living in 4 countries, learned 6 languages. Now I feel like I have been travelled around the world and I have got back to the starting point - myself.
After 7 years of intensive work dedicated to the youth education and…
Pirms daudziem, daudziem gadiem sēdēju autobusā un devos uz Varšavu. Asaras lija pār maniem vaigiem un es rakstīju savā blociņā
Es mīlu tevi nevis dēļ tā, kas esi tu, bet gan dēļ tā, kas esmu es, kad atrodos tev blakus.
Eso de pasar tantos días y tantas horas leyendo tantos microrrelatos de tantos autores en tantos blogs y tantos libros, me ha dado tanta hambre que casí ya no me preocupan tanto los problemas de tantos transgénicos en España, tantas mujeres en África, tantos niños en Asia y tantos animales en América. He decidido bajar al supermercado y tanto frío que me cogió en la calle.
- Zašto me ne pustiš napolje?
- Jeste, pa da me se zbog tebe svi smeju…
- Obući ću se… I obuti!
- Ja ne želim da se obuješ. Želim da hodaš bosa…
- Gde bre da hodam? Zoveš me Slobodom, a ne daš mi napolje. Napolje puštaš samo Strahove da trče slobodni i divlji. Treba da me pustiš.
- Pa sad najbolje da trčiš sa njima, živu će te pojesti.
- Pa brani me, ako me voliš.
- Zar ne vidiš da te štitim?
- Ne! Vidim da me sputavaš i gušiš. Uvenuću. Onda me više nećeš imati.
- Šta je smešno?
- Pa hajde onda. Nije moje nikad bilo da te držim ili puštam. Zar nisi uvek išla po svojoj volji?
- Ne razumem.
- Ne pravi se mutava. Ja ne mogu gola paradirati u tvoje ime, to znaš. A ti si se gola šetala samo pred odabranim ljubavnicima. Nisam te ja obuvala. Ti si birala samo najfiniji beli pesak, mahovinu i prolećnu travu da šetaš, kažeš da osetiš život među nožnim prstima…
- Pa nije to samo moj posao.
- Nije. Nacrtam ja lice u obeležja plemena koja više ne postoje, i tako se šetam kroz grad. I zovem te, a tebe nema. Upletem u kosu perije koje nađem pored puta. Isto sama.
- Šta hoćeš da kažeš?
- Pa nije ni to da te zovem napolje moj posao. Idi ako želiš.
- Ja ne želim da idem. Želim da idemo… Hajedemo!
- Evo saću. Samo prvo moram kući.
Ti što jesi to što jesi, tu gde jesi ne menjaj se!
Ostani gladan i željan lepote, i sanjaj silno -
jer trebam nekog da rastem sa njim rastem.
I ako jesi to što jesi, ne priklanjaj se!
Da te ne previdim jednog dana -
jer ne gledam one što pričaju da jedini vide da svet ne valja!
Ti što ćeš biti, istražuj i uči, ne opuštaj se!
Da ne umisliš jednog dana kako sve znaš -
jer ne znaš mene, i jednu šumu gde drveće iz neba raste,
gde ćemo bosi koračati po krošnji u kožama svojim, ko zlatnoj nošnji.
Njoj treba da čuje “biće bolje”. Ja sam bila njena osoba za to godinama. Nisam ni primetila kad sam počela da govorim “Biće nam mnogo gore pre nego što nam bude bolje.”. Tek sam sada povezala da je to moje novo “biće bolje” koje deprimira ljude. A koje…
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!