Meanwhile In - Selected Fragments

A blurred memory of a night in a flat somewhere in Zagreb. Are they lovers? Are they trusted friends? »Meanwhile In« captures a moment when they were young, perfectly independent, to the point in which the sun rises and the grey concrete landscape is becoming visible again.

Zagrebačka magla prima me u svoje vlažno naručje. Ona je poput obrnute majčine utrobe — neodoljivo privlačno i ljepljivo mjesto, ali u njoj hibernacija nikada ne prestaje.

The fog of Zagreb takes me into her humid bosom. She’s like mother’s womb turned upside down — overwhelmingly sticky and alluring place, but where hibernation never ends.

Početkom godine okupljamo se u unajmljenim stanovima, slušajući što svatko želi reći ili učiniti. Mrtve ribe promatraju nas sa zidova. Ne slutimo što nam se sprema, ali u tome je draž produženog djetinjstva. Mažem maslac na kruh ne mareći za plijesan, ljubeći ju kao prtljagu za udobne seobe.

Around the beginning of the year we gather in each other’s rented flats, listening to whatever anybody wants to say or do. Dead fishes stare at us from the walls. We cannot surmise what’s coming at us, but that is the charm of prolonged childhood. I smear the butter on a slice of bread, not minding the mildew, smooching it as the luggage for cozy exodus.

Ona voli slušati riječi kako šušte. On voli govoriti riječi upućene njoj. Svoje riječi spremaju u bilježnice, pa ih noću potiho listaju i dodiruju, uzdišući kao slijepci koji uče čitati. Ujutro zaboravljaju sve što su usvojili. Takav je njihov zajednički jezik.

She loves to listen the words rustle. He loves to speak the words towards her. They lay their words in notebooks and quietly scroll and touch them in the night, sighing as blind who learn how to read. Each morning they forget everything they have learned. Such is their common language.

Ona čuva pomno skriveni fetiš — potpuno prazne stanove. Voli promatrati kako sumračno svjetlo kroz prozore ni na što ne pada. Puste kupaonice ugodno ju uznemiruju, a zaljubljena je u čestice prašine zauvijek izgubljene u procijepima između parketa. Tišina u hodnicima miluje ju kao davno zaboravljena rodbina, šapčući joj na uho: »Spavaj, srce. Ovdje te nitko neće pronaći.«

She carefully guards a closely hidden fetish — entirely abandoned apartments. Through the windows she likes to observe how sunset falls unto nothing in particular. Hollow restrooms tend to upset her warmly, and she’s in love with the sparks of dust forever lost in the rifts between the parquet. The silence in the halls caresses her as a long forgotten relative, whispering in her ears: »Sleep well, dear. No one will find you here.«

Prozor ukrašen ptičjim izmetom. Mreža jeftinih automobila u podnožju doma ― slika prijepodnevnog drijemeža. Predvečerje u magli; kolaž ugodnih tonova i pogleda punih nade. Proljetna trka.

The windowpane decorated with birds faeces. The cheap cars network in the base of the building ― the image of slumber before noon. The eve in the mist: collage of pleasant sounds and hopeful looks. Spring race.

Počinje zlatno doba. Stari zagrebački znalci povlače se u svoja dvorišta, kako bi uz gemišt i grickalice zaboravili da išta prolazi mimo njih. S pravom, jer je trenutak njihovog istodobnog bivanja s olujom buke i bijesa dovoljan da ih zaokupi svih mogućih popodneva.

The golden age begins. Zagreb’s older connoisseurs are withdrawing themselves in backyards, willingly forgetting that anything flows beside them while enjoying their snacks and spritzers. And rightfully so, because the moment of their simultaneous existence with the storm of filth and the fury is enough to occupy them during all the given afternoons.

Jesi li ti utvara? ― pitam ju ugledavši njen odraz u presjajnim vratima novog Končarovog frižidera. Dolje, pred zgradom, klinci iz prizemlja kartaju belu. Penzioner s trećeg kata iznosi napolje dotrajalu bijelu tehniku. Shvatio sam, napokon, da me ona zasad ne namjerava ugristi.

Are you a spectre? ― I demand of her immediately after catching a glimpse in the all-too-shiny doors of my brand new refrigerator. Down there, in front of a building, kids from the ground floor are playing cards. The pensioner from the third floor is bringing out the garbage: decrepit cooking devices. I finally came to understand she won’t bite me. For now, at least.

Široka sopotska parkirališta pružaju joj utočište kad god njena garsonjera postane naporna kao nedjeljni talk-show. Nema pasa ni mačaka, ni na koga posebnog ne čeka. Ipak, dočekuje noćni bus kako bi se bez brige provozala u krugovima, čineći ono što ne stiže za dana: misliti o svemu pomalo, možda i flertovati sa šoferom te krenuti u svitanje. Na posao, u kupovinu ili gdje god već ljudi ujutro odlaze.

Broad parking lots of the Sopot neighborhood are providing shelter to her whenever the tiniest apartment becomes tedious as a Sunday afternoon talk-show. She has no cats nor dogs and she doesn’t wait for anyone’s approval. Yet she does wait for a night bus to arrive so she could drive around in circles without a slight piece of doubt on her mind, doing what she doesn’t manage to during daylight: thinking about everything at once, maybe even flirting with the bus driver and then disappearing when dawn comes. To her workplace, to the mall or wherever people are supposed to go in the morning.

Zagreb najsuptilnije prestaje na jugu. Lako je hodati, hodati i hodati, a ne primijetiti da šetnja prerasta u izlet, koji poslije postaje put. Vratiti se s takvog puta teže je no s planinarenja ― nema vidljivog cilja, a ravnica poziva na skrivanje među pustim kilometrima bez jasnih prepreka.

Zagreb ends the subtlest way in the south. It’s easy to keep walking ever on and on, while not noticing that stroll becomes a trip, and then trip evolves into voyage. Coming back from such a travel seems harder than climbing down from a mountain ― there is no visible goal, and the plain calls you to hide between deserted miles without clear barriers.

Što ranije pada noć, to se prije pale svjetla u ovim naseljima ― svuda trepću sazviježđa posvećena ljudima umjesto bogovima.

The earlier the night falls, the sooner are lights turning on in these blocks ― all around are blinking constellations devoted to humans instead of gods.