north

For a long time I have an urge to go far north. There's something deep inside of me that calls me. Not sure what but I want to test myself. As if one should accept their own insignificance.

I'd like to murder my ego. Test my body. Get close to my death. See if I can get out. Learn about myself. Or just become one of so many untold stories of demise.

Because you will never feel more alive than a moment you die.

But.

There is always a 'but'.

And 'but' negates everything previously stated.

Harry Belafonte

You were about eight months old when you heard Harry Belafonte for the first time. You loved his music. That's something you inherited from your grandfather. Dida Toni. I grew up with Harry's music, I liked it, but not like you. I would listen to your grandpa's select tunes on a cassette over and over again during different road trips. I still have a reflex when a "Island in the sun" song is about to end to start singing the famous "day'o". I'll explain cassettes to you one day. When I get a cassette player.

You would think that "Day'o" was about you. You would flinch every single time. Genuinely curious and cute to die for. 

You should know that I tried to push you to classical violin. Your excitement lasted from when you were 6 months until half an hour after I played Ma vlast by Smetana.

But Harry you chose. 

And you would sometimes sing his songs.

On the day I am writing this he passed away. 

He wasn't a big part of my life until you made him that. And I feel sad. Perhaps so you wouldn't.

Remember people through their deeds.

You made Harry live beyond his lifetime every time you sang "Te'o".

Love

Tata

Volvo. A love story

When I was a young boy I loved my car. Because it reminded me of my dad. It was a Volvo 340. It was a reddish purple color,four door small saloon that had it's first night layover traveling from Rotterdam to Koper in Dachau. By mistake of my father and his friend. In 1986. Two newly made captains. That didn't know how to read a map. 

It was loaded with everything possible for me to be born in. It was packed by the Rotterdam's Port warehouse workers as a gift to my dad for my soon coming birth. 

Little did they know that the car they packed would make an impact on a person they only heard of.

It had a 4 speed manual gearshift. Rear wheel drive. No air-conditioning. 2 seatbelts. 1.4l petrol engine with cca 75 bhp. The engine was japanese. I think Isuzu made it. I didn't know until recently but I apparently had my first car accident in it. It lasted until 1996. At least with us. I cried the day my dad told me he's selling it. I was unconsolable for it leaving us. 

It is the reason why I am writing this story. Because I never gave it a name.

My dad took me to a car show in Belgrade in the late nineties and I saw xc70. All of my friends were fascinated by Ferraris, Porsches, Lamborghinis. I was fascinated by the first generation of xc70.

3 years ago my son was born. And Volvo is a part of my family. My son calls him Jagoš. We go together to feed Jagoš. We take care of him because he plays my son's favorite song whenever he wants. It's Made of by Viola Martinsson if anyone wants to listen to it. My son knows every button in it. He loves the power of it and how warm it is in the winter. And when we lie down to have a sleep he says good night to Jagoš. 

One day when I am gone I hope I will be remembered as by my son as I remember my dad. 

If for nothing else, for choosing a car that took care of my family above his image.

child soldiers

I saw a video today. I remembered the day you were born. The smell of the top of your head. First touch. I remembered your first step. First time you said Oče. Our first fight and our first peace. 

How proud I am of your first song you sang to me. Of how proud you were when you assembled a broken pen. 

Of the day you called me to tell me you assembled a gun for the first time. 

A dron was high above a trench. Slowly positioning itself. With a small cross at the center of the frame. Dropped a grenade almost as it was a toy. Exploding by your legs. I saw you reaching out for your gun. Aim it in your mouth. 

And the blood that rushed out. 

From the top of your head.

star dust

Universe is really old. Many,many lifetimes have passed since it all started. In all of that time,all the stars in the sky,all the planets,moons,comets and asteroids,all of them were created and destroyed countless times. Over and over. And in all of that destruction and creation,every single tiniest bit of you and me was created. In the hearts of stars. It took so much time for all of those bits of you to come together so you can be. So you can have this chance to live. And your life is short if you compare it to the life of planets,stars and the universe. 

But, this is what makes it important.

Every joy. Every sadness,every tear,smile,anger, disappointment, girl,boy,every memory you make,all of it happens in this small frame of time you get to spend. All of it is created by stardust you are. You are so unique and beautiful that every ancestor,from the very first life came to be, until me and your mom,have done everything we can to make sure we survive so that you exist. World is hard. It's not evil or good. It just is. It doesn't care about our feelings. You make them meaningful.

Love. And know that you are loved. Because you are unique. There never was and never will be anyone like you.

You are a heart of a star. 

So shine,my #son

void

 I feel like I am yelling into an empty void. I don't know where to turn.

I need a friend. 

work ethics of a Yugoslav

When I was a young boy my father told me that it's better to be a good shoemaker than a bad doctor.

I am born in a country that doesn't exist where it used to. Except everywhere else around the world.

Those two points were the groundwork for the person who I am today.

First taught me that whatever I do I should do the best I can and more importantly that I am solely responsible for my own performance. Latter is measured by how much my peers trust me with the work we share. Noone else. Company men are not good workers. There's no pride in being a company man.

Work will survive without the company men. It will not survive without you.

We have one flag, one anthem and one origin struggle. We come from a proud people who stood up to hate. In those days it was simple. You do not betray your neighbour. You do not leave people behind. If you have no options, you avenge your neighbour.

Nowdays it's not that time. But the ideas are the same. We don't abandon our neighbours because it's hard to resist. 

People will come and tell you that you are better than others because of a particular set of your qualities . Some you have because you built them. Others you had no control over. Like your skin colour. Religious background. My or your mom's ethnicity. Languages you will learn. 

It's important that you understand that there is never time in which it is acceptable to turn your head away.

Never turn your head away, my son.

We do not turn our heads away.

We embrace. We love. We accept.

We understand.

I faced hate my whole life. Sometimes it meant I would have to do things that wouldn't be understood immediately. 

Sometimes it meant there are rumors that I did things that were illegal. But legal is not always right.

If you have to choose between being right and kind, be kind. 

It's more important to sleep sound than to sleep well.

I rise to Hej Sloveni. You will hold some other anthem in your heart. 

But values we hold high determin us for eternity.

Be kind.

I love you