Life

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It doesn't depend on me. I remember a beautiful day on deep waters, white as the moon, with the soft thin arc of a bridge in the distance. That consoles me. It doesn't depend on me. It suffices that on that day I could smell the aroma of uncultivated ground and that the clouds were a bit lower. No, it doesn't depend on me. It suffices if a shivering child runs out of a snow-covered garden and throws itself into my arms.

Translated from the Serbo-Croat by Herbert Kuhner.

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