сабота, јуни 29, 2002

And U want to find a word, way, gesture, metaphore, whatever that sounds similar to it. Something which will break through u, close to that place where the true answer is revealed. The Question is : WHY THE HELL DO I ALWAYS WANT TO COME BACK TO BITOLA????
Hot summers, freezing cold winters, silence in the afternoon siesta in which the furniture talks, waiting for the taxi, the stinking Dragor pretending to be a river, broken windows in my high school, empty talk and boring Visage, the park full with drunk underaged voices, people-symbols, people-appeareances, people-emptiness, stone make-up, the cross above the German Graves, the bored audience in the theatre.
You want to come up to something new, a verse that wasn't written before, a song that haven't been sung before.
It such a bore. Bitola, I hated this town, I still hate it. Everything is the way it has always been. Like in a photograph. It is a hole. A well in which coins are thrown in order to bring you luck. Bitola, three syllables, melodic, short, you can sing them forever. DO not destroy the house of Lord. Go and come back again. Light a candle in Begova Cesma. Kill the animal within you. Go and gossip again, make yourself a goddess, you have to look beautifull tonight. After all it is the only place in the world where somebody notices you. Matbe because there is too little to be noticed at all. Go , dye your hair. And after you stay there for a while, become anonymous again. Write a blog. Nobody will read it anyway.Stay another ant locked in a cell with internet and cable tv, with instant coffe, and instant onion soup that you just finished writing this, have an instant orgasm and an instant death which is waiting for you in wome instant future, no mather where you are......

2 коментари:

Анонимен рече...

pojma nemas od zivotot vo bitola jadi si instant supa u pukni si od maka GUSKE.

Ania рече...