moderndayruth
This a story from my second book, collection of 22 Tarot based stories, it’s written in memory of a passed friend, painter Cvetko Lainovic, known for his „white paintings“ and the book „White sky“; i’ve included some links to his paintings...
http://www.pero.co.yu/viewimage.php?imgid=329
http://www.pero.co.yu/viewimage.php?imgid=101
http://www.pero.co.yu/viewimage.php?imgid=102
The book will be published together with The Tarot of Black Mountains by Emily Carding - Sidhe Ra, which is the first project of a kind in this region
Here you can see images of the cards Em created by now:
http://www.tarotforum.net/showthread.php?t=81283&highlight=tarot+black+mountain
and another thread on the Tarot of Black Mountains bags and cloths that Sulis is designing
Though I am not sure the story is "readable" in English, i hope you'll like it
Enjoy,
Lena Ruth
The easiest way to avoid the boring reality in Podgorica is to spend time on the Miro’s balcony that hangs over the Omniauto building, streches across all the Spaniard cicrcuse and reaches all the way to the suburbs. This monumental, metaphisical building with time adopted the qualities of the people who spend long, hot summers here. Up here, the climat is totally different, it’s fresh and breezy even when down in the city is over hundred degrees Fahrenheit. The balcony is capricious like Bibi, strong and determined like Miro, from Ivo she got joy de vivre, she longs for the occult like me...
We really have to watch out whom do we let up here, the balcony can sometimes become malicious and really bad if we let up the stairs somebody she doesn’t like. Once she swollowed the pizza delivery boy... and spitted him out at the beach, sixty kilometers away from the city.
Some people are always here, some only occasionaly, some people get here just once...
Madam Anka with the oreol of blond hair, wearing embrodiered white dress and fine leather sandals, is always here, even when she is at work, her patients at the hospital usually don’t realise that this lady is at two places in the same time.
My Godmother Bibi sometimes decides we should miss her even more than usually and, moving the clouds with her hips, walks away to her studio in Toloshe, which is not far away. She has to come back when people on Spaniard Circus are covered in plaster that felt off the balcony that suffers without her.
Cvetko Lainović is always here, with us. That night when he died he promissed he’ll stay forever here, under this whitness he painted the very night he died. The balcony trusts him because she knows that sky above her is the whitest sky of all... At down, when the white sky is cut with little purple veins, Cvetko covers his eyes with white butterflies, this way he protects the whitness of his vision even during these momenets when the night gives birth to the day.
http://www.pero.co.yu/viewimage.php?imgid=329
http://www.pero.co.yu/viewimage.php?imgid=101
http://www.pero.co.yu/viewimage.php?imgid=102
The book will be published together with The Tarot of Black Mountains by Emily Carding - Sidhe Ra, which is the first project of a kind in this region
Here you can see images of the cards Em created by now:
http://www.tarotforum.net/showthread.php?t=81283&highlight=tarot+black+mountain
and another thread on the Tarot of Black Mountains bags and cloths that Sulis is designing
Though I am not sure the story is "readable" in English, i hope you'll like it
Enjoy,
Lena Ruth
The easiest way to avoid the boring reality in Podgorica is to spend time on the Miro’s balcony that hangs over the Omniauto building, streches across all the Spaniard cicrcuse and reaches all the way to the suburbs. This monumental, metaphisical building with time adopted the qualities of the people who spend long, hot summers here. Up here, the climat is totally different, it’s fresh and breezy even when down in the city is over hundred degrees Fahrenheit. The balcony is capricious like Bibi, strong and determined like Miro, from Ivo she got joy de vivre, she longs for the occult like me...
We really have to watch out whom do we let up here, the balcony can sometimes become malicious and really bad if we let up the stairs somebody she doesn’t like. Once she swollowed the pizza delivery boy... and spitted him out at the beach, sixty kilometers away from the city.
Some people are always here, some only occasionaly, some people get here just once...
Madam Anka with the oreol of blond hair, wearing embrodiered white dress and fine leather sandals, is always here, even when she is at work, her patients at the hospital usually don’t realise that this lady is at two places in the same time.
My Godmother Bibi sometimes decides we should miss her even more than usually and, moving the clouds with her hips, walks away to her studio in Toloshe, which is not far away. She has to come back when people on Spaniard Circus are covered in plaster that felt off the balcony that suffers without her.
Cvetko Lainović is always here, with us. That night when he died he promissed he’ll stay forever here, under this whitness he painted the very night he died. The balcony trusts him because she knows that sky above her is the whitest sky of all... At down, when the white sky is cut with little purple veins, Cvetko covers his eyes with white butterflies, this way he protects the whitness of his vision even during these momenets when the night gives birth to the day.
