onethousandninehundredeightyone

+ an oblong being, the voice of jožica

grown-ups

The story unites and disunites two time periods: one when in a homeland of “order and hard work” forces were joined in concord, everyone swore by Tito’s honour and believed in packed factories and true comrades, and a second one, the current one, where a promise is no guarantee, where swords of power are being swung only by self-sufficient arrogant individuals who are selling the country’s infrastructure for pennies, this same infrastructure that used to belong to the people, whilst the workers are collateral damage of tycoon business deals, left empty-handed, with not faith, no future, no bread. These are small stories from a small town or how we once believed that we are opening a gate into “another Switzerland” or a Balkan never-never land, but what we got is a box of chocolates, wrapped left and right and all across, but mouldy and smelly and full of worms.

erik

here, see, here, there’s till blood

edo, chess player in the café, erik’s brother

but did you see the accident or just this corpse

erik

just the corpse

here, see, was the head, and he was lying like this and i didn’t see that well, but it seemed he was missing half a face

edo, chess player in the café, erik’s brother

hell, awful

but look, it’s no big deal, people die every day

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