Pastirica

Čini mi se da ću ovim poglavljem učiniti nešto prijelomno ― odlučujem ovo i buduća poglavlja pisati na hrvatskom jeziku. Doduše, to sam i ranije znala učiniti (napose onda kada bih pisala o svojoj poeziji), no ovo poglavlje vuče me da ga predstavim nikako drugačije no tako: i sam naziv lijepo mi zvuči kada ga naslovim „Pastirica“.

Zamišljam zelene poljane, mir u duši, bose noge i livadno cvijeće. To je seoska raskoš, neko buduće doba. Prošlost, koja mi je nekoć bila mila, neka se ponovi.

― iz druge zbirke poezije

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Portraiture (the stories the objects said)

This is yet another story about the friendship — and it had such an interesting beginning. I met Eoin more than two years ago in front of the big gates of the Trinity college: not that I asked for some directions, but for him to take a photograph. Our conversation, I believe, would not appear if in that moment, in the spot where I wanted to stand, a large group of tourist stopped to discuss something. The unpleasant silence that appeared afterwards was broken with a simple question: “Are you a student over here?” He answered: “Yes, I study philosophy.” This was a certain beginning with no end.

After hearing the answer, that one photograph was not important any more: what was important is meeting somebody who studies philosophy, who is sincere, clever and ready to discuss. Eventually, that one photograph was made, somewhere in-between our half an hour conversation, with our contacts exchanged. The photo story that follows is the story of his, told by the objects he uses.

Eoin, 38 ↓

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