KDO ME IMA RAD?

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Si zastavim to vprašanje in nič ne razmišljam, samo čakam … da me bo kdo imel rad. Potem ga ni in se prikupim. Pogledam kaj mu/ji godi in povozim sebe. Potem naderem ženo in se prikupim drugemu. Da me bo imel rad. Čudni pogledi, tesnoba, tuhtanje, lov za novim radodalcem/radodalko. Hoja, spotikanje, padec… pogled navzgor… ogledalo. V ogledalu prestrašen obraz, ki se mi zasmili… in čutim, da bi to osebo lahko imel rad. Trenutek spoznanja! Osnova! Življenje!

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WHO’S GONNA LOVE ME?

I ask myself this question again and again without much speculation, waiting for somebody to come … and hug me. No one comes, and I start craving to win him/her over. I completely forget about my pristine intentions. Then, under constant love-stress, I shout at my wife confirming the saying “Ignorance has pathological diopters”. Strange looks, anxiety, brooding… a chase for a new lovegiver, loveprovider, loveseller,. lovebeast. A walk down the aisle, stumbling, fall… a glimpse upwards… a mirror, and, lo and behold, a scared countenance I’m immediately feeling sorry for… I feel I could really grow fond of that person. The moment of insight! Foundation! Life!

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