Small talk with an intuitive friend

1.

— Are you looking at the sea again?

— Yes, it’s like a mirror — it shows everything.

— But to me it’s just blue.

— Then your eyes are still resting.

— And yours?

— Mine are always working.

2.

— Why are you photographing old houses?

— They tell more than the new ones.

— But they’re falling apart.

— So are people. And they’re still important.

— Do you think anyone will notice?

— The one who needs to will notice.

3.

— Why are you laughing at the doctors?

— Because otherwise I’ll cry.

— But they were trying.

— Each in their own way: one wrote a slip of paper, another smoked over milk jars.

— You’re harsh.

— I just remember life is funnier than death.

4.

— What does “polako” mean?

— Take it easy. Don’t rush.

— And if it’s urgent?

— For Montenegrins, nothing is urgent.

— Not even a finger?

— Not even life.

5.

— Did you really say we were Albanians?

— Yes.

— But why?

— To make them feel easier.

— But that’s not true!

— Truth is different for everyone.

6.

— Aren’t you afraid of war?

— It’s already here, in the walls, the grass, the pipes.

— But it’s long gone.

— For the land, time is different.

— And for people?

— People forget quickly.

7.

— Why do children always run ahead?

— Because they don’t know they can fall.

— And we know?

— We remember.

— Does that help?

— It only gets in the way.

8.

— Aren’t you hot?

— I am, but I’m used to it.

— How can you get used to it?

— You get used to sun and pain the same way.

— And then?

— Then you call it life.

9.

— Do you love these people?

— Not all at once — one by one, yes.

— Then why meet them?

— So there’s someone to say “no” to.

— You’re strange.

— And is life ordinary?

10.

— Why didn’t you go at night?

— Because no one was waiting there.

— But the child!

— He slept peacefully.

— And you?

— I was guarding the silence.

11.

— You’re joking about Vorobey again?

— How else can you survive comedians?

— But the grandmother was nice.

— Grandmothers are always nice.

— And the daughter?

— She lives on TV.

12.

— Do you like Montenegro?

— By the sea — yes.

— And in the mountains?

— Too much silence there.

— And that’s bad?

— It’s frightening.

13.

— You tell the children “polako,” but you rush yourself.

— Because I know time is short.

— And they?

— They think it’s endless.

— So who’s right?

— No one.

14.

— Why do you write?

— Because otherwise I’ll disappear.

— But it’s only words.

— Words hold memory.

— And what’s valuable in that?

— Everything.

15.

— Are you happy?

— Right now — yes.

— And what is happiness for you?

— The sea, the children, and the chance to laugh.

— And if the sea goes away?

— I’ll find a river.