good morning, sunshine

less than six hours later:

this photograph reminds me of mornings up in the hills last year when i went hiking with the rest of class. it just never occured to me to go again. there are too many things to it.

the mess in my room stays the same. but at least i got the books by colour now.

tomorrow is thursday, then friday, then saturday. i cannot wait for this week to end. for this semester to end. i wish i had more time.

i need to sleep.

jackie left on a cold dark night

one o’clock in the morning. i cannot sleep. i’m not even tired. i took all the books out of my shelf and right now i’m in the middle of process in putting them all back in order by colour. it looks really nice. when i’m finished i will probably take a photo of it. i will do the same with dvds. i’m crazy, right? i like the mess in my room now.

i have nothing much to write tonight. i’ve been writing poetry lately. words are missing.


ostavila sam ključeve
i slova
moram ići
kući pa opet

možda budem znala
kad je vrijeme
za odlazak
i neću zaboraviti
tvoj rođendan

Å¡est ujutro
a ja
perem suđe
jer nemam
više cigareta



you were there
i saw you
and then

where have you gone
i can’t
only one left surviving

i think
i sleep
and still
it does
not feel
the same

like when we were


mořská tráva

hlasitost mých
myšlenek mě
nenechává spát
utápím se v


bílé mléko na
červené jahody
mořská tráva
ale už nemůžu
necítím své vlastní plíce
dusím se v bělotě
a hledám

soon enough there will be one in italian and mandarin.

pretty little one that I adore

with the change of season also came a change in our apartment. we bought a new sofa, threw out the old one. i deleted old files on my disc, i put away some old writings. soon i will need a special box just for my notes and notebooks. there will also be another box just for the white hat, chestnuts and beer mat. and of course my namecard: outsider 2. i like to have these things. sometimes they express more words than i would ever be able to write.

it’s been a while i know. i’m almost back to my old rythm in writing. i write every single day, at least two hours. i love to sit in a starbucks on nathan road, take out one of my moleskines and simply write for about 45 minutes, then finish my coffee and go for a walk. i’ve been doing this every day since i came back. hong kong is not as hot anymore. the most beautiful period of the year has arrived, which also means that summer is officially over now. i cannot tell you how glad i am.

i’m still not sleeping well. i always have to wait until i am dead tired, before i can even go to bed. then it takes me another hour to fall asleep. which is usually around three, four o’clock in the morning. i
regularly get up at six thirty. if i don’t, i feel even more tired. i know the structure of my walls perfectly. they seem to be whiter at night.

in a cafe or sometimes

good evening, hong kong.

last night we ended up at maria’s again. of course. it was supposed to be just one drink. but you know how it is. we stayed for over four sets. they sung me my cherie amour again. i didn’t even have to request the song, they just did it. this one is for sara the whole bar looked me. the singer leaned on my chair, pressed his face to mine and sung. happiness. what are you doing? stupid question.

during the last set a horribly drunk couple joined us on the stage. they demanded full property of microphones and attention. their voices were fake and not even the experienced voices of the band could save the last couple of minutes. and of course i was the one with whom the drunken guy wanted to dance. i thought, why not, it could be fun. but after third song it just became obvious that he was not going to let me go. i shot couple of really desperate looks to the singer, who almost immediately got my message and nicely stepped between me and the drunk and asked him if he could borrow me for couple of minutes. yes!

for the rest of the night i just kept holding his hand only to finish it at two in the morning with a conversation about psychology, politics, obama, november and the unbearable lightness of being.

i went to bed at four thirty as i spent two hours reading wikipedia’s entry on spanish-american war and philippine declaration of independence. i didn’t even have time to dream; i woke up at six thirty and went to school somewhat happy and lost in thoughts. there are many things we do not realize in our lives.

the tomato of my feelings

sunday morning. a beautiful sunday morning but i’m not happy about it. tomorrow is monday, tomorrow means new day, new week, tomorrow means a new set of tasks and assessments. i already feel tired. this weekend was not exactly as i thought it would be. even though i was really happy to go to ikea yesterday. it reminded of some of my old dreams. i couldn’t help it.

i finished reading two kundera’s books this week; the laughable loves and of course, the unbearable lightness of being. the second book has left a huge impact on me. but i don’t think i need to explain in detail. everybody knows why. everybody understands the qualities of kundera’s work.

no one can get really drunk on a novel or a painting, but who can help getting drunk on beethoven’s ninth, bartók’s sonata for two pianos or percussion, or the beatles’ white album? he loved rock as much as mozart. he considered music a liberating force: it liberated him from loneliness, introversion, the dust of the library; it opened the door of his body and allowed his soul to step out into the world to make friends.

this the thing we have in common. you and me. music. passion. loneliness. but you just don’t want to admit it, he said. we are both reading the same novel because we are looking for the same answers but have different questions to them.

i feel just like that tomato.