I rarely enter churches and temples, not, as they say, believing. And this winter I'm constantly walking in a litter. That protest against the adoption of the Law on Freedom of Religion is not only a matter of faith and the potential introduction of a canonically unrecognized church into someone else's possession. It is also about rebellion against the ruling concept of freedom, democracy, decency, history, morality, education, dignity, patriotism, everything...
These protest walks are unlike any previous ones. Earlier, when we were walking, for various reasons, many Barans looked at us indifferently on the street, and from the passing cafes, I would say, with a slight sneer. Now an endless column of young Aries and serious, family people are followed by approving glances, and even respect in the form of getting up from the table, as in several cafes in Bar and Ulcinj.
These walks will last as long as necessary. And we will see what that means...
***
After reading "Belgrade Trio" in two hours, a love story in the shadow of the horror of Goli Otok, along with "Nashi" by Dovlatov, the best novel I held in my hands in the past year, I called the author Goran Marković. After complimenting him on his masterpiece, I tried to explain to him why there is little written about Goli otok in Montenegro, even though Montenegrins suffered the most percentage of all Yugoslavs in one of the most terrible camps of the twentieth century.
On Goli Otok, those who believed in ideals were humiliated and beaten by those who thought rationally. Such a division (fortunately, without the same consequences) was in Montenegro in mid-1997 as well. The descendants of the 1948 winner also won in 1997, but it seems to me that they don't want to be overly reminded of those victories. And the defeated are - defeated...
***
"Cepressari" marked the anniversary of the cutting of cypress trees. Patiently, they are still waiting for those who were "against" and "restrained" to start building a kindergarten and rebuilding the park in front of the gymnasium.
***
The son of Borut Pahor, the President of Slovenia, is in no way different from other Ljubljana students. He eats where everyone else does, uses public transport.
I wonder if I will wait until we become a country where it doesn't matter who its president is, and even less who his family members are and what they do.
***
I harass the listeners of Radio Bar's "Thursday Promenade" with short stories by the great Uruguayan Eduardo Galeano (1940 - 2015), from the "Book of Hugs" collection.
Here is one of his brilliance of spirit in a small space entitled "Bureaucracy": "Sixto Martinez served his military service in a barracks in Seville.
There was a bench in the middle of the yard of that barracks. A soldier stood guard next to the bench. No one knew why there was a guard around her. The guard was kept because it was kept, both day and night, every day and every night, and from generation to generation the officers passed on the order and the soldiers carried it out. No one ever doubted, no one ever wondered. If it was done that way, and it always seemed that way, it had to be for something.
And so it continued until someone, I don't know which general or colonel, wanted to know the original order. It was necessary to search the archives to the bottom. And after many searches it was found out. Thirty-one years, two months and four days earlier, an officer ordered a guard to be posted next to a freshly painted bench so that no one would think of sitting on the fresh paint."
***
At the beginning of this year, some dear Barani left us, among them Novo Nikezić and Rodoljub Roćko Pejović.
Novo sang beautifully, he looked like Din Martin, he was the personification of an urban, charming Bar, always polished, always ready for an easy story that makes you feel better.
Roćko lived on the ground floor of my building. Harmless as a butterfly, but with attitude. When we installed the water heater, he insisted on paying the full price like the other tenants, even though he had as much water as he wanted on the ground floor. He was honest, of noble birth.
***
I watched the Belgrade New Year's concert of the Symphony Orchestra and the RTS Choir. The conductor was Bojan Suđić, selector of the music program "Bar Chronicle". The concert ended with the song "Pkni zoro". It was sung, to everyone's surprise, by maestro Suđić and special guest, tenor Amadi Laga, and Jelena Tomašević was the backing vocalist. The impressive performance on their feet, full of joy due to the unusual atmosphere, was accompanied by those from the back rows of the Sava Center. Those from the front listened to the song sitting down, favorably, but what would my friend Majo say - with great misunderstanding.
How much more life, optimism, excitement and progress there is in the back rows!
***
They say that dreams last only a few moments, but that, despite this, they protect the body from premature awakening. All our dreams are related to our feelings, fears, longings, desires, needs, memories. Waking up after childhood dreams usually brought me relief, and in my older years, disappointment. I haven't dreamed anything in a long time. Everything is leaving me a little bit, I guess the dreams won't either?
***
At least he's basking in the sun these January days.
When I die, I would like it to rain, "from the sky and from the earth". Not to regret too much...
Bonus video:
