There is strong wind in Belgrade. It rained for a couple of days too. To me, sounds of rain and wind are promissing, like the outside will be all clean and washed and ready for a new start.
Then I walk out and meet again same streets and buildings and people, and I know: all layers of Belgrade life have stayed. Even though it smells fresh with rain, my idea of a new start is as lasting as my own reflection in the puddle of watter in front of my gate… even if i stood above the puddle, it would dry out in two hours again. And I don’t stand, i rush by. No reflection, no new start thoughts. Same old battlefield. And I always rush.
I am writing from home. It got late. Wind tempts me to go out. How can I see my city with different eyes? I do things like that, run out when everybody rushes in/when it’s hailing, for example. And I asked my self why, and I just told you: I really want to see my city differently…
I love my city. I made a film about it, “Memoria”. I know my city and live in it taking the best it’s got, also trying to bring out the best I can. But that is also a layer that stays after every wind or rain. My perspective stays, like all other posible points of view… but I only really know my own. Ain’t that a curse?
In 2 days i will have my radio show Stigma. I chose a topic “Mom knows what’s best/for her daughter to think”. It is a classic feminst topic, i do laugh at my self. I know I will do some reding in my late radio show:) I remain open to suggestions.
my friend and actress in her mom's atelier, last night, while it was raining
It’s still blowing.
