Cultural Institution Blesok • Established 1998
New in Blesok

the art is inside

ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 10-11 | volume II | August-November, 1999



[размена]



SLOVOKULT.DE
KRUG
BALKANI
OKF







                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 10-11August-November, 1999
Prose

The Death of the Fox

/7
p. 1
Igor Isakovski

    It was a winter night. The heating system did not work. Electricity went off very often. The people came in, peeped through the door, and seeing that there were not many people inside, closed it. It was the middle of the week. Wednesday. One of those Skopje winter months. Skopje has many winter months. The bar looked sad, dominated by yellow light. That felt good. Like relief from the fog. Or more precisely, something that only seemed like relief from the fog, as there is no relief from the Skopje fog. The light in the bar was a kind of deception. But sometimes even that is enough. But this evening it was not enough. I drank beer, drifting in and out of the music, making occasional small talk with the people inside, and I smoked like a prisoner on death row. In the middle of the middle of the week.
    We were like refugees: no one wanted to leave the bar, though it was more than clear that the night could have been better spent at any other place. Even despite the fog outside. It was clear. Any other place. Home? “More than clear” means clarity coming from the floodlights above the operating table. Like illumination that is everything but. We grew drowsy and some of us tried to liven things up. I think I was the one laughing the most …
    – Let's go to Ohrid, somebody said.
    The others started to babble. Actually, no one had any intention of going anywhere. Yes. And, as it happened, once someone mentioned it, the story got started … I stood with a lady friend of mine at the bar, knocking back beers as if they were the last on earth, and I could in no way quench my thirst. Our conversation went on, and I spoke:
    – Let's go.
    She smiled and asked,
    – Who?
    – Well, I don't know, I said, whoever wants to. It's all the same, isn't it?
    – Let's go, she said.
    We clinked our glasses.
    – Do you have a car? I asked.
    – I do, she said.
    – When do we take off? I asked.
    – After I finish this, she said.
    We stood there and drank some more. We drank as if we weren't going anywhere.
    – You really going? someone asked. The guy was all right, but it didn't matter now.
    – Yeah, and you?
    – I'll go with somebody else.
    – Have you room in your car?
    – No. We'll bring


This is an excerpt from:
eBook




"Blesok" editions 01-93 are also available at CEEOL web site.

By purchasing our titles, you are directly supporting our activities. Thank you!



50%


FOLLOW US:
Visit us on Facebook Follow us on Twitter Follow us on Google+