Just a little toast...

To the future. May it be filled with happiness.

Getting geared up for the holidays...

t'was the night before the night before the night before xmas, all all through the house, people scurrying everywhere - not just the mouse.

...now, where was i headed?

Blogging from a café on a Saturday night.

Doesn’t make much sense, unless you understand the entire story. It’s the one that starts when you realize that you just turned thirty and that it is a turning point. I don’t believe in numbers, but life is proving my doubt to be absolutely founded. The first indication was that my body is no longer that what it used to be. It takes a lot longer to recover from injuries, to get back into shape and regain energy. It just takes time.
On the other hand I have learned to be patient. This does not necessarily include tolerance, but definitely patience. You just do things at a slower pace and don’t expect results immediately. The compromise I don’t accept, and which I think is not necessary, is that things have to change. They don’t change direction just intensity. It is we that change direction.
So on a Saturday night, having spent the day doing just about nothing concrete, I realize that I is SATURDAY. This is the free time/night that I have, as do all other thirty-year-olds. So what do I do? I wonder. I wonder whether there will be the last minute phone call that will take me to a night of hedonism, socializing, probably mixed with some legal vice. I pack up and head out – in the opposite direction. Instead of going downtown (which is altitudinally actually up), I head down to the river. The fog has been in for the past three days. It’s cold and empty. And the river is there. It’s wide and dark, and I know that there is nothing on the other bank. It might as well be the end of the world. Silence and yellow streetlights.
An hour later I’ve made my way downtown (up). I’ve spent an hour in silence, observing the world around me. It’s a nice way to spend time. The hammer strikes when I recall that its Saturday. No one called. I didn’t call anyone. I’m thirty. It’s not a number, it’s a period. I continue to defy “expectations”, and many things in my life allow me to do so. But at the end of the day, I don’t live alone, nor do I long to do so. We (my generation) are “growing up”, but I don’t think we realize what that necessarily implies and what we choose to change by ourselves. It’s been a long time since I felt peer pressure. It’s no longer direct, no one cares what I wear, but if I want to do things with other people, I can’t expect them to follow my lead. I live differently. And then because I’m doing life differently, I end up blogging from a café on a Saturday night.

into the dark...

My heart beats slightly out of control. My breathing is heavy, but I try to restrain the rhythm. I feel every last hair on my body stand on end, caressing the still breeze of the air. I would tremble in anticipation, but then I would be out of control. I slow my breathing a little more. It’s like trying to stop your heart beat, forcing the rhythm of the diaphragm on the heart. I can feel my intestine moving. There’s no tricking my body. It knows what comes next. Just the idea of the cold air that is going to slide across my arms and chest, neck and back – it drives me into a frenzy. Breathe in, breathe out. Focus. Simplicity. It’s a routine. The next step is getting dressed and lacing up. It’s the same every time. My little stool, carefully tying each shoe, making sure it’s not too tight. It’s cold outside. Just the way I like it - zero degrees and foggy. No wind. I will have to make sure not to overdo it, not to lose the breathing rhythm. Gasping for air would not be a good idea, especially when stopping is not an option. The trick is to slowly push up the tempo until you get warmed up enough to go sleeveless, and grasp the point where the warmth you radiate is balanced with what your body produces. Still cold air is best for this. A cold winter night, just like this one. I’m starting to sweat. The sheer though of this is exciting me. Time to lace up. Darkness awaits.

i have been accused in the past of being naive. but can i be but different: we are born to this world clean and sinless; mankind has transformed the world that surrounds us to such an extent that little has been left unscathed, therefore you cannot but take notice of the new life that joins us, and greet it with a little comfort.

if God gave us the Earth, would he take it back on account of negligence?

rivers are such a beautiful thing. it is where we came from; water is the origin of life. over the millions of years we have moved from the water to the land, then to caves, huts and cities. so today when you look out of your insulated glass window, you would consider yourself lucky or privileged to be able to see the "old water".
i've visited many waters and made even more connections with them, from spitting in the ocean to skiing on the local reservoir. i've also always been fascinated with diving but never gone further than skin diving. it is a beautiful world, but one with limited access for us land-folk - we only get to visit for a little while. but we do get to look in through the window that joins us - the surface of the nearest body of water, the local stream or ocean, lake or river.
so it hurt me very much to see my river - the one that runs by the house where i grew up, the one that i bike along whenever i get the chance - and how much "post consumer" material was present (i don't remember seeing fish drinking coke from PET bottles). this is at a moment when pollution in the city is so high that i just needed a breather, literally, but that was in vain. the river banks couldn't save me, nor could the forest that has been my sanctuary for the past 15 years. the stench of the city is spreading, and for the past two weeks there has been no wind. we are suffocating in the excrement of our 21st century lifestyle.
i've decided to make the next step: passive non-littering has never been enough, but it was a start. now it's time for some basic recycling. just another chapter in the saga of the small steps that i will always believe change the world.

life...

...is this life? if we are riding the train who's controling the switches?

childhood - sanctity

it's tough growing up. you make this transition out of childhood, and at one point you are on the way back, this time as the observer, as the parent. you are no longer the "sufferer" but rather the "responsible" one. not exactly a symetrical situation. in the former you are the focus, at least from your point of view. in the latter you are one of a multitude of influences. so you try to assess the competition... and then you see the change, the changes that have occured since you yourself exited the age of innocence... so many things. makes you feel like an old child.

toxic beauty

it turns out that yesterday's fog was actually full of pollution. really full. really pollution.

...and it's stil not over.

midnight

in the deep of night, a lone man walks down a street in belgrade. the fog is thick and the stench of the city is even thicker. seconds later his figure disappears in the dark, concealing his identity. it is midnight. tomorrow is Republic Day. will anyone remember it? or him?

office light

sending someone a little light reflects a little light back to me. but you first have to send it...

moondown

and when night falls, everything falls. that's when you can look out on to the city, and realize taht we are all connected, you are connected to me by reading this, a am conntected to the city through my window, telephones ring, people drink coffee, work is done, chores. but on a sunday night it sometimes just seems that the world is too lonely. but then there's you.

road to somewhere?

deliblatska pescara. a place quite desolate.
to be surrounded by nothingness is theraputical.

one of those days...

... when I just didn't seem to leave the house. So this is all i saw. And there is always the computer.

ten years...

... after one generation demanded fundamental democratic values, another one takes to the street to demand that the name of their degree mimic something more.

corridor X, Serbia, 21st century.

why?

because i need somewhere to put my thoughts, and i just can't seem to find the time to pick up a pen.

and i used to write, but not since i started working so much. an i just need somewhere to put a photo now and again, to comment, to put a message out there, somewhere, just out of my head. maybe i just won't tell anyone about this blog.