Monday, May 22, 2017

you know in the awing language of west africa you don't say good morning...you say something that is translated : are we awake!

Monday, May 8, 2017

This time I'm submitting 'The Notes of a Certain Person'. It is not I; it is by an altogether different person. I think nothing more in the way of an introduction is necessary.
(Bobok)

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

"Dok putujem na posao i vracam se kuci ja podsecam sebe na linije tvog lica" 20 July
I liked his nose

Saturday, April 15, 2017

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

She had a dream, she was kissing his knees and legs, he had ends of her hair in his hands. There was only ocean to be heard through the open window. "When we met, I noticed, you are a smart and funny lady, dear, my darling," he said. "We are so strange," she answered. There were raspberries all around them.

Sunday, February 26, 2017


https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/photos/weird-and-unusual-animals-around-the-world/ss-BBl01XI

https://www.msn.com/en-gb/money/news/14-iconic-products-that-have-come-back-from-the-dead/ss-AAn92Hb?li=BBoPWjQ

Friday, January 20, 2017

Sunday, January 8, 2017

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

'Sensei, here,' I said, holding out the package, which was now wrinkled from being carried around for a while.
'What is it?' Sensei took the parcel, placing his briefcase on the ground and carefully unwrapping it. The small grater emerged. It glimmered in the pale light that shone through the shop curtain. It gleamed even more brightly than it had in the shop in Kappabashi.
'It's a grater, isn't it?'
'That's right.'
'Is it for me?'
'Of course.'
It was a brusque exchange. Which was just like our usual conversation. I looked up at the sky and scratched the top of my head. Sensei carefully rewrapped the grater and put it in his briefcase, then straightened up and started walking.
I counted stars as I walked. I counted them, looking up at the sky and trailing behind Sensei.


H.Kawakami

Saturday, November 19, 2016

I once met a woman who wasn't there.
She was long and tall and slim and fair.

I love this woman with all my heart.
And when she vanished, it tore me apart.

I once met a woman who wasn't there.
I followed her down to the pit of despair.

She was not evil, she was kind.
It was not her, but me...
Who was blind.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

Friday, November 4, 2016

Five swivel chairs were ranged along the other side of the observation car of the Kyoto express. Oki Toshio noticed that the one on the end was quietly revolving with the movement of the train. He could not take his eyes from it. The low armchairs on his side of the car did not swivel.
Oki was alone in the observation car. Slouched deep in his armchair, he watched the end chair turn. Not that it kept turning in the same direction, at the same speed; sometimes it went a little faster, or a little slower, or even stopped and began turning in the opposite direction. To look at that one revolving chair, wheeling before him in the empty car, made him feel lonely. Thoughts of the past began flickering through his mind.
...
The loud chattering in a foreign language made Oki feel all the more lonely. That revolving chair in the observation car, turning by itself, came before him. It was as he saw his own loneliness silently turning round and round within his heart.
Beauty and Sadness, Yasunari Kawabata
Ljubav poezije
Branko Miljkovic

Ja volim srecu koja nije srecna
Pesmu koja miri zavadjene reci
Slobodu koja ima svoje robove
I usnu koja se kupuje za poljubac

Ja volim rec o koju se otimaju dve slike
I sliku nacrtanu na ocnom kapku iznutra
Cvetove koji se prepiru sa vremenom
U ime buducih plodova i prolecne casti

Ja volim sve sto se krece jer sve sto se krece
Krece se po zakonima mirovanja i smrti
Volim sve istine koje nisu obavezne
Jer prava istina je stidljiva kao miris

Ja volim jucerasnje neznosti
Da kazem svom telu "dosta" i da sanjam bilje
Prste oci sluh drugacije rasporedjene
U sumi negoli u telu
keeping a paper plane in the coat pocket
my hands will miss you

Thursday, October 27, 2016

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/6686/6686-h/6686-h.htm

Sunday, October 23, 2016

Friday, October 7, 2016

Even in Siberia there is happiness.
Anton Chekhov

Wednesday, September 7, 2016


The red dragon will lead the way

Thursday, August 18, 2016


Стеван Раичковић: ПОВРАТАК

Она има руке од траве.
Она има глас од ветра и жита.
Она има око од кише.
Зашто сам измислио да се не вратим?
Она има груди од руже.
Она има колено од белутка.
Она има кук од снега и рибе.
Зашто сам измислио да се не вратим?
Она има смех од лишћа.
Она има ход од воде и песка.
Она има кожу од протегнутог лабуда.
Зашто сам измислио да се не вратим?
Она има косу од мојих прстију.
Она има мозак од мојих година.
Она има слух од мојих корака.
Зашто сам измислио да се не вратим?


Стеван Раичковић: У МОЈОЈ ГЛАВИ СТАНУЈЕШ

У мојој глави станујеш: ту ти је
Соба и мали балкон с ког пуца
Видик на моје мисли најтананије.
Понекад слушаш како ми закуца
Срце ко живи лептир из кутије.
Ја ти одшкринем врата: низ басамаке
Силазиш у врт за ког нико не зна.
На поветарцу лебдиш попут сламке.
(Док за то време, можда: неопрезна
Стојиш на неком рубу, испред замке...)
Некад (у мојој глави док баш скачеш
У морску пену, испод сунца, гола)
спазим те како по киши прескачеш
Барице и сва у блату до пола
Журиш на посао с лицем ко да плачеш.
Пролази дан за даном и сва свота
Времена твог се по два пута збира:
Па пола око мога клупка мота.
Видим са твога лица пуног мира
Да не знаш како живиш два живота.
У мојој глави станујеш и дубиш
Црне и беле ходнике за моје
Мисли: како ми бежиш ил ме љубиш?
Ван тебе друге мисли не постоје.
Само док спавам ти се некуд губиш.