Love

Love is an elusive thing, for many reasons. Sometimes you don't see it, sometimes you don't feel seen. It's often accompanied with other feelings. Rage,bitterness,fear,among other. Love can be complicated too. Sometimes you love multiple people in a different way. Sometimes same way. Not every love is the one for you or the person you love. Not every person you love is for you. Not every love is romantic. 

But to love is important. So is being heartbroken. Those two will bring you closer to what love should be. 

See,love is a selfless act. Not fatalist, but one that makes you fearless. Not without a sense of selpreservation,just one fear less. 

And to me,the most profound fact I learned about love is that answer to the question I loved ones I did was always a sense of confusion. To this day I don't know.

But the touch of those I loved would make me calm and fall asleep. That's how I knew. You might know in another way. 

So,love. All I wish for you is to experience that. Even if it's not returned. 

And as we always did, if that happens, be thankful for your counterpart and move on.

Whatever you feel at the moment, in the long run you only benefit. 

Be proud and gracious. Lover who speaks well of their partners even when it doesn't work out is a green card to a stable person. It might sound counterintuitive but it vets out insecure people who will damage you. I was one and I wish someone told me what I am telling you. 

Whatever happens you will be ok.

Love

Tata

black star

I wish upon to be buried under a star

Five points, black, to be seen from a far

Stars are important, you see

Because 

They determine who you will be 

Not as dieties, astrological signs or fortune tellers 

But as windows into the past, as lessons, as dwellers 

To remind us that there is no plan

Other than one we make for ourself. 

And that whatever we chose it's okay 

As long our choice is to stay.

You are beautiful, you are kind, you are smart 

You are my pride. You are my heart. 

When my time has come, I'll be content. 

Under that black star my body will be reclaimed. 

As I have feasted,nature will feast back 

That's only fair, life always finds a way to collect. 

So think of that as not a loss 

See it as an investment, as a cause. 

I'll be one star more, nothin else 

Plenty of us everywhere in suspense 

My goal is not big,nor it's afar

If you ever need to stand on another star

Marko

I was coming back from the city like most of the privileged students in Belgrade. I stopped by the small shop across the street from my parents home to see who's working. It was Marko. We hanged out many times,for years at that point. I don't remember what was the topic this time but I had a beer to pass the time. I didn't have enough money for it so he chipped in. Because that's what the lowest of the working class do. The ones in most precarious position live the solidarity instinctively. 

He held deeply patriarchal position and I was a staunch feminist. But we were friends. We would talk but ultimately shake hands in the end. He'd call me if there was someone shady during his night shift. 

This evening was a boring one. So I finished my drink and went home. 

I just entered the apartment and I heard an explosion. I went curiously to the balcony and saw the shop on fire. A follow up explosion. And Marko slowly exiting. On fire. Screaming. His top body was engulfed. He moved slowly across the street. I rushed down and started thinking what to do. As I reached him a neighbor threw a blanket and we covered him. He was completely burned. His ear exploded. There was no more hair. I spoke to him while he was shaking in shock. He was almost unaware of what happened. He spoke about his sister and Roman law we discussed at some point. Then the ambulance came and rushed him to the emergency. A few days later I read a small article in the newspaper that he died. 

I think about that evening every day. 

muzika

One day you will discover the true power of music. I still don't understand it but I know it exists. There are not many things that can create emotion out of thin air or recreate a memory like music does. I remember love through music. Some of the saddest moments in my life have a melody that takes me back to them. 

Hate. 

I dedicated a particular song to you the moment you were born. Because it was a song that tied my earliest childhood memories of the people I loved and I wanted to embed that love into you. It's sang by our family, but you will remember it as my voice. And it sings about unconditional, undying, love that is a beginning and the end. I read so much into that song, way I sang it to you, pace,what I repeat of the lyrics. Everything was deliberate. Because all of that is what music is. And everything is important. 

I told you how much you changed my life. And this is another way you did it. What I listen to changed. How I perceive music changed. 

One day I would like you to discover Brian Eno. He wrote music that can be looped. To me that's fascinating but I haven't met anyone else who shares my enthusiasm.

And my favorite song is The big ship. If you research it well enough, you might find out why.

Until then, you are my first and last love. 

Tata

Sulan the Legend

Sulan was an IT guy. He sat quietly in the corner of the bar we used to hang out in. Played his mock casino games, watching basketball or just reading the news. Paper news. He was that generation. He'd lick his finger before changing the page. But he was more than just a quiet guy. He loved heavy metal. That's not common among sixty year olds. His humor was as dark as his taste in music. Almost like a Russian. You could argue he was funny like a Fin. He would probably like that pun. 

Sulan used to choose his words carefully, speak softly and refused to repeat himself. If he spoke, everyone paid attention. Not necessarily because of the potential impact of his words but because we wanted to be reminded of the sound of his voice. In case any of us gets blessed with him calling us on the street. Some day that he did call him from across the street but they were in a hurry and he had a walker so nobody can be sure. Like Sulan, it's a legend passed around that he existed outside of Stugan. That rhymed. It's a shitty rhyme, but I dare you to make a better one writing about a dead person. Also, a better break of the fourth wall. Sulan would have liked it.

So stay strong Sulan, and rest in peace.

Legend on up there 

jezik

Reč je zajebana stvar. Može biti rič. Često je riječ. Di su granice reči? Što je nacija? Gdje je kraj jednoj a početak drugoj? Kojim jezikom govore Srbi u Hrvatskoj? Hrvati u Srbiji? Kom se bogu molimo mi koji se slolidarišemo sa onima koji su rekli da ako bog postoji, moraće da moli za oprost. 

Pivaj, pevaj,pevaj. Sve je pisma,sve je pjesma, sve je pesma. Pusti glas. 

guilt

For decades now I battle with a very simple issue. How do I honor my existence? How do I honor people I view as crucial to the possibility of me writing this? And through my learning I encountered some people that ideology I subscribed to for the most of my life views as vile. I owe my existence to choices made by people like Stalin and Churchill. 

And I never liked Churchill, especially since I learned about the cost of WWII Indian territory paid. But that sacrifice gave my ancestors a chance. Among other people's sacrifices. 

That being said, as much as I find it conflicting I am faced with the reality that I feel grateful to Churchill for his choices. And guilt when I face the people of the Subcontinent. 

I'm inspired to hear that I made someone's life easier. 

Maybe my gratitude for the sacrifice inspires someone in that far corner of the world from mine.