Kajzen, pionirka i magična rapsodija

Uhvatim sebe kako sam uredno, uveče, bez plana i namere, dohvatila mikser i mutim sve u 16.
Sedimo predveče tako, deca i ja, listamo jednu od onih blica žena, lisa, kuhinja i 22 magična recepta ove sezone, a sve sami kolači, torte i slatkiši. Ne znaš koji od kog je lepši, voda na usta ti krene samo dok gledaš taj baršunast krem i tu sjajnu glazuru. Nikada nisam volela recepte gde piše da ti treba tipa 16 ili 56 jaja, koje ni ceo kokošinjac za jedan dan ne proizvede, već ih skupljaš nedelju dana. Čim vidim tu količinu jaja odmah mi pozli. Uhvatim sebe sinoć, kako me je zarazilo ono dečije oduševljenje tipa: „Jao vidi mama i ovaj je lep, šta piše, kako se zove… A vidi ovaj mama, evo ova tri sad da nam praviš. A koji se tebi najviše svidja?!“ I zaraze me, pa listam ko pomahnitala po treći put istih magičnih 22 recepta i sve biram koji ću. Malo se namrštim kad vidim tu količinu jaja ili onaj deo „skuvati na pari“. To nikad nisam umela. I ne znam ni sama kako, dok sam se okrenula, u sve 8 uveče uhvatim sebe da mi na stolu, sa narandžastom mušemom i belim cvetićima, stoji sto i jedna mala raznobojna posudica sa po 6 kašika ovoga, dve kašike onoga, odvojena belanca od žumanca, a mikser u ruci dok nameštam one mutilice. Gotovo, evo krenula sam da pravim, u sred srede, bez ikakvog realnog povoda i razloga, sve uredno mutim smesu za patišpanj, dok oni zatvaraju vrata od kuhinje, smeta im zvuk miksera u gledanju stote reprize veštice tinejdžerke.
I u duhu svih mojih pretkinja, mame, baka i prabaka, geni izlaze iz mene i dok si rekao keks, otvaram rernu, bockam čačkalicom, ko cela ženska linija mog porodičnog stabla, da proverim jal’ pečen iznutra patišpanj il’ nije. Hm, vata se malo na vrh. Vraćaj nazad u rernu. Još 5 minuta!
I dok me u prolazu pitaju: A šta praviš? Kako se zove?
Odgovaram, smišljajući naziv za nešto što je miks nekoliko recepata, izbačeno šta mi se ne svidja, dodato šta mislim da bi, kad zatvorim oči, odgovaralo kombinaciji ukusa i mirisa, sa prikrivenim osmehom u uglu usana, nesvesna da u trenutku izmišljam naziv: „ Zove se Mamina magična rapsodija“, izgovaram sva isflekana. Izeš ti to kuHanje, ako se nisi bar malo isflekao, liznuo, probao, ispekao, namazao jekodermom, vratio se nazad, isplakao zbog luka ili bar malo prosuo, uz tihi niz sramnih reči izgovorenih s tvojih usana.
Mamina magična raspodija! Smejem se samoj sebi i sama sa soom, jer su već odavno izašli iz iste prostorije. Zašto baš taj naziv?! Jer, umesto samo oraha, stavih i šaku prepečenih lešnika, računam lepše će biti, umesto milion jaja, stavljam svega par, dodajem šta ne piše, pa vadim s tajne police, onu malu čarobnu bočicu bordo, gotovo plavog, napitka, esencije šumskih borovnica, sa slovenačkih planinskih vrhova, što sam dobila kao tajni sastojak za pravljenje kolača, uz malko esencije vanile, te umesto kuvanih žumanaca na pari, neki samo moj, onaj što uvek uspe, krem, prošaran topljenom čokoladom, malo mlevene plazne (to nigde ne piše, ni na jednom od istih magičnih 22 recepta), da zamiriši i da teksturu. I kao da vidim zamišljene mi Džejmija Olivera i Rudolfa kako sede opušteno, pijuckaju kaficu, za tim istim stolom s narandžastom mušemom, prave mi društvo i potvrdjuju klimanjem glave i skrivenim namigivanjem, dok sama smišljam neki svoj sasvim novi, i naravno neponovljivi, jer po osećaju i „šta imam u kući, pretvori ono što nemaš u nešto što imaš“ radim, recept ove Mamine magične rapsodije. Nekako bečlijski mi zvuči, ko s dvora neka torta. Pa se onda okuražim još više i prisetim svih malih tajni velikih majstora koje sam gledala na 24h kitchen za pravljenje ukrasa za tortu od topljene čokolade. Uspešna do pola, al ne odustajem. Idem mic po mic, deo po deo, rešena da se od sad pa na dalje u životu vodim čuvenom japanskom Kajzen filozofijom.
Kajzen je japanska reč koja se odnosi na filozofiju iliti praksu da se uvek i kontinuirano ide u pravcu napretka, poboljšanja, u malim koracima, ali stalnim. Što bi naši rekli zrno po zrno, pogača.
S troje dece teško je održavati spremljen stan na primer, i stalno sam se nervirala oko toga. Ali, sad jok. Više ne. Samo mantram sebi: Marija, kajzen. Idemo. Mic po mic. Deo po deo.
I to u svakom smislu, malo po malo. Malo ja sredim, malo njih nateram, malo po malo menjam, ali kontinuirano. Ne gledam sve odjednom da uspem, već deo po deo. Ne razmišljam da li je dan za tortu, da li imam sve sastojke, već uzmem činijicu, otvorim frižider, ladice, pa izvadim šta imam. Ne brinem odmah kakav će biti ishod. Ne. Krenem mic po mic. Hajde prvo patišpanj, za krem ćemo videti. Kuvanje na pari? Ma, ko kaže da mora?! Ili 265 jaja, ma ko kaže da mora?! Imam 3 jaja. Ok, pravim tako. Kajzen znači prosto poboljšanje u odnosu na trenutno stanje, bilo kakvo poboljšanje. Napraviti tortu je bolje nego nemati je uopšte samo zbog toga, jer nemam meglomanskih 265 jaja u frižideru u datom trenutku. Promena, poboljšanje. Može biti i malo i veliko. Nije to važno. Bitno je da se sledeći korak, kako tako, unapredi u odnosu na trenutni, a posle ćeš ga još doraditi, popraviti, ne mora odmah da bude najbolje i savršeno. Malo po malo, mic po mic, korak po korak. Hiljadu kilometara se prelazi tako što prvo predješ 1 km. Kajzen!
Uvek ima razloga za promenu na bolje, a za to je “kai” (promena) i “zen” (dobro, mudrost) idealna tehnika. I da se manemo torte sad kao primera, u sferi ličnog razvoja, kajzen je način da izbegnemo uspone i padove koje nam donose veliki planovi i da usvojimo metod sitnih promena – 1 minut dnevno za poboljšanje korak-po-korak.
Dakle, bez obzira o čemu se radi u vašem životu, da li je reč o torti, započinjanju vežbanja, novog posla, nove veze, nije bitno šta je u pitanju. Ono što je bitno je da ne postavljamo grandiozne planove. Tipa, za tri meseca skinuću 45kg, ili za 4 meseca postaću instruktor joge, a nikad nismo bili ni na jednom času, već nam se praksa joge svodi na milion pregledanih youtube videa. Ono što je ključ za na primer učenje stranog jezika ili sređivanje kuće i bilo koju aktivnost, jeste da nas kajzen uči da sebi NE POSTAVLJAMO velike ciljeve za čije je ostvarenje potrebno da se steknu komplikovani uslovi. Ako nam za taj čas joge treba da izlazimo ranije s posla, rizikujemo d ali će nam autobus stići na vreme, nemamo dovoljno finansija za časove, od toga mili moji nema ništa. Okačite mačku o rep. Ali, ako kažemo sebi: Ok, evo radiću vežbe svakog dana 1 minut. Na primer plank vežbe, ono kad u polu skleku treba da izbrojimo do minut ili dva, kad shvatimo koliko je samo 1 minut zapravo dugačak i nikako da mu dodje kraj. Kajzen tehnika od jednog minuta znači da možete odabrati samo jednu vežbu i raditi je kod kuće, ali je treba ponavljati svakog dana u isto vreme. Posle nekog vremena, produžite taj minut u dva, pa u tri… Posle izvesnog vremena, a da nismo ni primetili, shvatićemo da je došlo do ozbiljnog poboljšanja, bilo da je kuća spremljena, zategli se mišići, ili na španskom zanmo da sastavimo čak celu jednu rečenicu koja ima smisla. Ili pak, eto nama gotove magične rapsodije od torte u frižideru.
I za kraj samo da vam kažem da se patišpanj baš fino ispekao, iako nema zilion jaja u sebi, a da je fil izazovno lep. Što se ukrašavanja tiče, pa neke figurice su se izlomile odmah, a neke su čak ostale u životu. Malo po malo. Dan po dan. Korak po korak. A za ukus, evo ni sama ne znam da li bih sad pre zavirila nos u frižider, čisto da malo popričam s tom magičnom rapsodijom ili da kliknem POST i objavim tekst. Izazov, izazov! Ali, pošto pričam o promenama i jednoj odličnoj tehnici, a obično od silnih pundravca, znate već gde, hoću sve, sad i odmah, eto menjam se i po kajzenu ipak ću završiti prvo ovo što sam započela i kliknuti POST, a onda zasluženo se malo družiti s tom magičnom i rapsodičnom damom s dvora zvanom: Tortica!
PS: Od sutra počinjem da vežbam! Časna pionirska! 😀
Pps: možda bi bolje bilo početi od ponedeljka, onako, kao pravi početak. Hm, imam utisak kao da me neko krišom posmatra. Oh, zdravo druže kajzen, pa de si ti ceo moj život? Toliki put si prevalio, čak iz Japana. Oš torticu?!


In my own unique way

I believe in life, in energy, in God, Buddha, Muhammed, Moses, Jesus, however he is called in any religion.
But, I believe in my own unique way. I have my own approach.
I don’t believe in any kind of punishment, hell and the likes of it, but I believe that for the sake of balance and harmony in life, we sometimes have to go through all that pain that many speak of.
I call it cleansing for the children; so we do not leave our greatest mistakes – our conscious evildoings – for our descendants to pay for.
People consciously commit bad deeds, that is a fact. I believe that for the sake of harmony we must learn to make conscious decisions in life which will not bring evil upon anyone. This is something that is learnt, discipline is needed. When I say this, I mean full awareness and a sense of belonging and unity between people and nature. I mean doing things out of love for oneself and others.
People, animals, plants – we are all part of an enormous system, the Universe, which has existed for millions of years before us.
If that system has survived, it is only because there is a kind of balance and harmony in everything, starting from the sky, planets and stars, continents, countries, cities, streets, down to our neighbourly relations which are in a sense a small universe of their own.
Therefore, I believe that we should respect everything and everyone around us, that we should respect ourselves, our own lives and be grateful for every day that we are alive.
But you see, so few people do this. A very small percentage of humanity.
Maybe this way of thinking is close to some cultures, but it seems to me that it is becoming more and more some kind of collective consciousness of life, of our purpose of existence. As if it were a collective awakening, some kind of evolution of the mind.
And it has nothing to do with cultural and religious grounds.
Therefore, both you and I are the same, no matter where we are from and who we are. The essence is the same, even though we may be different.
At least this is how I see it, and I don’t think there is anything abnormal about it or that we should be afraid of anything that is happening in life.
Really, you who are reading this, there is no reason to fear! If you are going through a hard period in life, don’t be afraid. Everything is alright.
You are getting to know yourself, your life in all its fantastic colours and all its glory.
The power of life has no aim to do bad by you. If it were so, life on the planet would have stopped existing a long time ago. That is the simple truth.
Let life happen without fear of it, because it will take you to a new, beautiful place.
Exactly where you are supposed to be.


dusa

Flattery, Aka No Time for That

Why do we have a need to compare ourselves with others? Why do we have the need to get recognition from others? Why the need to seek adulation from others for these reasons?
What even is flattery? The art of adjusting the opinions of others to our own needs. Cultural flattery better explains this as an inner inferiority complex which leads us to reject the person we are, considering ourselves of lower value compared with others. What for?
Who even convinced us we are not good enough? Where did such a strong belief that others are better and they are judging us come from? Why do we leave ourselves to the mercy and cruelty of others? Why are we not our own, but someone else’s? There is no happiness there.
There is no happiness there, not because we are not good enough for others, but because we are not important to others. Their reaction to us is really just their answer to themselves. Convincing themselves that they are better than the other person they too are comparing themselves to. Because, the same person you are seeking adulation from is comparing himself to you just as you are asking for their approval. Don’t seek answers from others, they don’t have any. They don’t have any because they don’t even have an answer for themselves, let alone you. Don’t waste time convincing anybody of who you are or aren’t, of what you feel, because they cannot feel what you feel. Once again, this isn’t because they don’t want to, but because everybody is already fighting their own battles. Everyone’s view is already flooded with images of themselves and they aren’t able to see others. To really see them! Every person will look at your problem through their own eyes, their own vision of what they are feeling; they won’t be able to give an answer for YOUR problem. They don’t have it. Simply, nobody else has our answers. This is why it is absurd to compare yourself with them, why it is absurd to seek recognition, why it is absurd to seek flattery.
Are you expecting a prize if you convince someone that who you are is good? What kind of prize? Recognition? Money? A favour? Do you really believe that you cannot achieve what you started without the favours of others? Without the attention or love of others? How are you to gain the love of others, when you do not love yourself? How are you to dazzle others, when you are suffocating and hiding yourself, not seeing or knowing what is dazzling about you? How do I show my beauty to the world, if I myself do not know where it lies? Firstly, I have to find myself and that is not easy. There are too many constraints within us which we need to release ourselves from instead of wasting our time convincing others to convince us that beauty lies behind those constraints.
I don’t have the time for it, don’t hold it against me. It’s not about you, it’s about me. I am fighting the same battles as the whole world around me. And I don’t have the intention of wasting the precious time of others equally as much as I first and foremost don’t have the intention of wasting my own time tilting at windmills. And that is why I have all the time of this world for the love I can recognize, without exception, in the eyes of any child, grown man, or elderly person. But I don’t have the time for lies when I see them in the eyes of others, not because I despise them. No, not anymore. I don’t despise lies and dishonesty, because I understand what troubles and struggles are hiding behind them – battles with inner demons. I don’t despise them, I just don’t have anything to look for in others’ battles, nor do I have time to spare.
Life is short. I have seen it in the eyes of the old, this awareness that life is just a spark on a New Year’s sparkler, which goes out right when you begin to relax and enjoy its dance. Their eyes showed me, without words, how short life is, what a mystery it is, over which there is no need to waste so much worry and so much time on the approval of others, flattery. Let the sparkler flicker and do not be afraid of the sparks, allow yourself to relax as soon as possible, so that the joy and beauty lasts for just a blink or two longer. It’s too short to stare at others, or to distract others’ attention from their own sparkler, just to convince me how beautifully my own flickers.
I don’t have the time, so don’t hold it against me!

prskalice

Either you or it, if it’s you then you are in love

ringispil
Either take control of your life, or it will control you.
Have you heard of this sentence? Even if you haven’t before, now you have and I have to say it is true. Either you take control of your life and stop complaining, or you keep quiet, since you have let life control you. However, if you decide to take charge of your own life, rest assured that things will get better, that in time love will blossom between you and ultimately, you will find Peace.
Most people make excuses in order not to take responsibility for their own lives, and generally someone else is guilty for all our misfortunes. Rare are the ones who will say: If things are as they are, I am responsible for how they are. Rare. Those who do say this, they are fighters, they are already on the path of loving life. And they know this. They know that this love is just around the corner. Because, realistically, taking responsibility for your own life is proof that you have seriously began to regain control; that it has delivered all the blows it could have and you raised your arms and decided: OK, I will deal with this, nothing else has worked.
Begin. Because, when you take control of the steering wheel in your life, you will feel it change towards you. When you feel that life is not kicking you down any longer, but steering you in the right direction, when you feel that life is motivating you to grow, to better yourself and enjoy it, that is when you will begin to seriously love life. Then a time will come when you realise that you should be thankful for your life every morning, not out of obligation, but with joy and most importantly, respect. Only then does the carousel of life take on a new light, creating every day as a kaleidoscope and taking your breath away with its beauty. And every day will be a new adventure where no matter what happens you know – even though you may not know why – that it has your best interests at heart, it’s a wise act of a long-term and unconditional love that surprises you and leaves you breathless. Then you will know what true Love is and it will knock you off your feet. Life.
So take control of your life and enjoy it, or if you are too lazy, let it control you, waiting for the day that you realise life is a game and it has been provoking you to start playing the whole time. Play and love, stop complaining. It’s either you or it, if it’s you then you are in love! Play, love, live, control your life, work on yourself, don’t wait around, don’t complain, don’t sit around, begin your journey. Ma vie, je t’aime a la folie!

FREEDOM

duga


Can we accept ourselves the way we are? Can we accept that within ourselves, live more versions of us? Accept that in us lives the sad, happy, healthy, ill, strong, weak, loved and abandoned Buddha. How much time is needed, how many lives are needed to pass for us to accept ourselves, to accept the Truth? Anyway, what even is this freedom?
I don’t have the answers to all questions. Each day I am less and less the sceptical Levin from Anna Karenina and more the Little Prince who believes and sees not only what is visible to the eye, but more what is invisible, seen with only the heart. And everyone can see this, I am not special in that sense. Every human being can do the same, everyone has a Little Prince in them. Only… The problem is not in growing up – growing up is wonderful – it is in forgetting. How much time does it take for us to remember that we are free, that we were winners from the day we were born, to remember that our whole life is one magical dance composed of our many choices. Only our choices. Not other people’s. Even when it seems to us that they are other people’s choices, they are still only ours, stained by the decision of listening to other people’s mathematics instead of our own hearts. Because we don’t believe. We don’t believe that our heart can give us the right answer. It’s too childish, we think. We stand oblivious to the fact that it is the only right answer.
There are no wrong answers, but only one is the right one. And it lies in front of our noses always. Always. And for the longest time, since the beginning of the world, we have known the answer. Why are we afraid of it? Why are we so afraid of being free? We put on numerous suits, giving them different names: good man, bad man, child, father, mother, revolutionary, teacher, pupil, poor, rich, smart, stupid, lazy or hardworking, but… But they are all correct, yet not one is the right one. Life choices? There are no wrongs. It is always right no matter what we decide, the only question is whether it leads us toward our true selves, or to a new, fun role we have chosen to play this time. Does it lead us down the path of honesty, the path that something inside us wants to go down because it recognizes, remembers, that it is the only righteous path. Essentially, the answer is so unbelievably simple and its simplicity confuses us. The more we stray from the confusing path, complicating it, the more challenges come knocking at our door, causing us to fail, rendering us ill in some way or another. The problem is not in the illness or the challenges, or the failure. Because we were created to heal, to rise again and face the challenges.
But we do not do this. Mostly we don’t. We flail about more and more, despairing and cursing. We run from the freedom to choose the right answers. Is who leads us important? Yes. Is what we have chosen important? Yes. Will we get another chance? We will. Not just one, we will get as many chances as we wish to see given to us. Every morning is a new chance. Yet we don’t realise this until illness comes knocking at our door. But before we fall ill, we get so very many cautions, so many new chances are born every morning, yet we still remain afraid to ask ourselves down which path we truly wish to go. Because of this fear to accept ourselves the way we are, perfect in our imperfections, we run. We run toward the roles that seem easy to play.
An actor lives to play various roles, some are given to him, some are chosen by him, but only one is written for him and him only. And we know very well which role that is. We know. We are capable of playing any role, absolutely any. It is our freedom to be anything we wish to. Freedom is being what you are in all its colours, and every colour is the right one, because if one is missing, what remains is a fraction of the rainbow that once was. There is no reason to worry whether all the colours within us are alright, because they are, they are all ok and each and every one of them is needed to complete the rainbow. And we are on it. Above all the roles there is the one. Somewhere above the rainbow is our role. It’s called love. Because love is the most wonderful feeling that arises within us, and it can be woken by various impulses, situations, people. It is the one thing that gives us the biggest smile while we are sliding through the rainbow, through all the roles that lie united within us.
We cannot be only black, or only white, or only blue, or only red, because then we are not complete. We must be all those colours. We have to accept them as a whole with which we can experiment and play… And how does this rainbow come to exist? It’s not about what we can see, but about what we cannot see. Emergence. Remember how a rainbow emerges. Drops of rain and the Sun come together to form a rainbow. Both the rain and the Sun. Yes. You see that you know!!! See you somewhere over the rainbow, or maybe sliding down it like a slide!

PARIS: The Cry of an Angry

The Cry of an Angry

What a dangerous afternoon
The smell of oil, the smell of sweat
In the distance, the sound of engines
The sound
Behind the window are rifles
Behind the rifles are eyes
Behind eyes are hands
Behind the hands, a heartbeat
Baby, don’t be afraid
I will be beside you
Baby, don’t be afraid
I will be beside you
When the time comes…
Seimeni are coming…behind the rifles are hands, behind the hands, a heartbeat, baby!
Sorrow!

It isn’t my intention for this text to be politically driven. Not in the least. Perhaps socially responsible, but primarily personal. I heard and saw everything, even more than I should have. I don’t need to. Everything is clear to me. More madness. I only know that some people have been killed. Right? Who killed them? Some other people. Maybe politics. Maybe religion, maybe something else, but is it even important? I only know that until people “wake up” – at least the critical majority which will be able to lead the rest – these things will still happen. Everyone cares, everyone is grief-stricken, lighting candles. Organized. Everyone is politically correct. They send letters and telegrams to the bereaved families. They turn up at funerals in large numbers, offering their wholehearted support. But you know what? It’s too late now. This won’t bring light to a mother whose child was killed. Not even a little. And how does the mother of the child that took a gun and killed in the name of whoever? They are drowsy, misled, defeated and abandoned. Both one and the other. Where are the others? The ones who are awake. Flowers and spring, Hare Krishna. Let the light shine on. Should I judge them? Of course not. They didn’t drink water from the same well. Not even close. Then who is to blame? Maybe God? Yes, let’s put the blame on God. What an idyllic delusion and perfect alibi. Surely, He is to blame for everything.
Do you know who is responsible? We all are. I too am to blame. I am guilty because I don’t clean my own garden as often as I should. I leave the garbage for two days before throwing it out. Yes, I am guilty. If each of us washed ourselves every day, took care that garbage doesn’t come out of our moths, made less garbage and threw it out on time, stared less into our neighbour’s garden, chose our leaders more wisely, spent less time chasing after money, understood our own children more and created a more peaceful future for them, loved our children more, maybe then some lost child in their twenties or thirties wouldn’t allow themselves to take a gun and commit murder in anybody’s name. Because, behind the rifles are hands, behind the hands a heartbeat, baby! Who took care of the heart that took the gun? Who? Nobody! It makes me want to scream from the top of my lungs, because of capitalism, a non-existent democracy, a lost child, the madness for money. Madness. Sometimes I am under the impression that we are all sleeping and sleeping and sleeping. When will an alarm ring and wake us? Yes, the Universe – God is guilty, I’m sure. Constellations. Conspiracies. False affirmations. This event will once again be the perfect excuse for some other passive leaders from the shadows to waste a little more ammunition that has passed its sell-by date. Because it’s wrong to keep it after its sell-by date.
Do you know who is truly guilty? Guilty are we who are conscious, but kept quiet. Because we are lazy and scared to take responsibility for the development of society. Our own back gardens. It’s much easier to sit in a chair and criticize. Yes, It’s easier. And then someone comes to praise how smart and wise we are. But when it’s time to be a missionary, to put in some elbow grease and go between ordinary passive masses, to wake them and tell them it’s time to get up out of bed and look at where you are and who you are – then we would rather sleep. We are lazy and afraid. So, where did we get the right to become so full of ourselves and be angry about the fact that our country is f***ed up…, that the world order is catastrophic, almost anarchic, terrible, that some religious fanatics are killing people not even knowing why. If we can’t be bothered to be missionaries, let us at least take care of our children. Let us at least look after the hearts of the children and not allow that heart to someday recognize a rifle or murder as a solution to anything.
Because, I repeat, behind the rifles are hands, behind the hands a heartbeat, baby!

Paris

Migrants – Migranti Intro

I was trying to refrain, and to refrain again, meditating with myself, but sometimes it’s just not possible and one have to speak out. Loudly. My job put me in a situation to visit Migrant detention center in north Serbia, small place called Kanjiza. It is nearest spot to EU, right next to the border with Hungary. I was hard-hearted, trying not to give in on my previous decision to stay cool, not to intervene. But, God damn it, once a journalist will always be a journalist, no matter what.  So, I could choose: either to swallow truth, not to speak up, stay still, silent or…to “spit it” and say it. Loudly.  I saw it, I saw everything, all sides of the story, I was fully aware of everything, even though to ignore all images, scenes, signs…but no, i could not ignore it. It is impossible to ignore it.

It’s horrible, complete sadness, desperation, chaos on all sides… Such a cruel reality over there, all involved sides with no masks moving around with absolute no idea what to do, how to react, or what is right or what is wrong. And thousands of people lost, but dedicated to move forward, not backward. Where to go back?! Maybe eventually they would, but where, for what?! It’s not just Syria… It’s a life story of all desperate people being sick of crazy life conditions, unreal circumstances, lost, pain, blood, poorness, but most of all NO FUTURE, and at the end of a day it implicates NO HOPE. When hope is gone, than it’s the end!

And it’s scary … it’s horrible, because I saw this before, and I know for sure I’ll see it even more again. Too many refugees, immigrants, legal or illegal migrants, camps, detention centers, tents, dirty abandoned halls and schools full with poor people… There were too many for last few decades.

First of all, it’s smelly, bad smell, the air stinks, and everything stinks, camps, buses, people and most of all politics! Even more stinks that ridiculous theory of the Great powers which are constantly creating more and more collateral victims, damages, suffering and all of that completely unnecessary. All that just because of some imaginary politics of a Great good that did not brought nothing good to anyone.

Even more horrifying is the fact that all this is just calm before the storm.  Huge storm…. just an intro of Carmina Burana.

In a meanwhile, retarded Donald Trump is living climax of a typical American idiocy, autistic introspective Putin is counting his currency Ruble and Russian GDP, while US puppet the Ottoman Empire is doing all to prepare new wave of Kurds migrants and refugees to start moving this autumn.

Could you just imagine what it would be like in all those migrant camp’s sites or centers with blood clashes enemy migrants, fighting among each other during the day, and being target like in some Delta force gaming at night. Jesus!

Merkel of justice will continue to play her Big Mother role explaining to everyone that her neo-Nazi child is only a teenager under hormones. And us? Balkans? As always throughout history, we will play our role of military border guards of Maria Theresa Empress of Austro-Hungary, the Hapsburg Dynasty. And we will be playing this role proudly since it’s obviously the only thing we know how to do and we’ll be just so grateful to get an award or nickname Lala.


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Hello world!

La vie est belle! La vita e bella! Life is beautiful! Život je lep! Oui, si, yes, da…
Ovo je novi početak jedne divne čarolije koju želim da kreiram i podelim sa celim svetom.

Dobrodošli u moj svet!
C’est un nouveau début d’une merveilleuse magie que je veux créer et partager avec le monde.

Bienvenue dans mon monde!

This is the beginning of a wonderful magic that I would love to create and share with the world.

Welcome into my world! 🙂

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