Swimming in the Dust

/, Literature, Blesok no. 71-73/Swimming in the Dust

Swimming in the Dust

(an excerpt from the novel)

At 22:оо I switched off the mixete, I took my bag and the discotheque tape recorder, Snežana took the bottle and off we went. We said hi to Boža in the lobby and we continued to the pavilion.
She unlocked the room and we went in. She opened the windows, I switched on the tape recorder and I chose a tape. J.L. Hooker, ‘66. Let’s Go Out Tonight. I looked at the sky. There was no moon. I closed the door. She stood in the middle of the room. In the room there were two beds, a table with two chairs and a sink. I kissed her. She kissed me back and she went to the door. I kept quiet. I wondered how I felt. I did not feel anything special. I was calm.
“I have to go.” she said with her hand on the doorknob.
“Everybody saw us coming here together.”
“OK. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Can I wake you up?”
“Yes, that would be nice.”
“I’ll come early”
She returned to me, the kiss lasted long and then she closed the door behind her. I lied on the bed, I reached for the bottle and I dived into the blues. I saw a pack of cigarettes on the table. She’s left them for me, I thought and as I lit one, I opened the door. A guy with yellow hair stood on the other side and he startled. I looked at him, he left down the hallway and entered one of the doors. There were more people in the hallway and everybody looked at me in wonder. Guys and girls. We were peers, about. The hallway looked neglected: the walls were gray and yellow with time and one could not say what their color used to be. The hallway was long and there was a light bulb at every 5-6 meters. The yellow and the gray have found their home. The lights were so weak that I could see the wires inside them. I came back to my room. The door remained open. Some noise came from the outside. Serbo-Croatian with a strange accent. Bosnians, I thought and I put up the music. The yellow-haired guy appeared at the doorframe. He stood and looked at me. He had a smile in his eyes.
“Come in.” I told him.
He entered and sat on a chair. I offered him with rakija. He took a sip and he returned me the bottle.
“What’s your name?”
“… Vampir.” I said.
“Vampir, huh-huh-huh!” and he took another sip.
“And you?”
“Hi Suad.”
Several other guys and girls.
“This is Vampir.” said Suad.
They laughed.
“Where do you come from, Vampir?” asked someone.
“… From the grave.” I said.
They laughed again. I called them in and I got off the bed.
“Sit down here. I’ll sleep on the other one.”
The bottle went around and it came between Suad and myself. Then, he withdraw too. I stayed with the blues. In the meantime, they were telling me their names. They were all from Bihać. I thought of Ðole and our dinner in Bihać. Strange how things coincide, I thought, and I asked them what they do in Belgrade. A work camp, said they. I thought Does this shit still exist, but I said nothing. I drank for a while, somebody asked that the music is changed. I told them I was the DJ in the room. Somebody mentioned the discotheque. They didn’t let them in, and they wanted to dance so much. That is how they said – to dance, plesati. I liked it.
“Come tomorrow and told them you are my guests.”
“What do you drink, Vampir?” asked Suad.
“Vodka, when there is one.”
“Tomorrow there will be one on us.”
“Not necessary.” I told them.

I opened my eyes and I saw her, her smile, her bright brown eyes and a cup of coffee in her hand. Good morning, she said and I smiled. I tied my hair, I put my neck under the cold water from the faucet and I stretched.
“You’ve had a good drink last night.” she said, pointing at the bottle. It was almost empty.
“I had visitors.”
“Oh?” she laughed.
“The work campers.”
“They whispered something when I entered.”
“That’s how they are.”

They interrupted us only once, when they offered me a sports newspaper. Snežana looked tense. We spoke about insignificant things. While she wiped off with a wet handkerchief at the sink, I started to kind of fall asleep. I heard everything, I knew I was quite awake, but the images that I had in my head were quite different than everything that I’d seen, thought or felt before. My head started to write, and most probably there was no way to stop it. The silver foal started thundering in the space around me. This time, its pace was heavy and slow. The foal walks and with every step there is a thunder. Behind my closed eyes I see lightning on my body; from my shoulders down and from my feet up. The lightning meets in the sliding along my body around my loins and there it echoes loudly. There is an eruption in my chest. The foal thunders, its mane wraps around my body. A fiddle plays somewhere far away, along with another string instrument from the ancient times. I feel Snežana’s juices on my dick, mixed with my sperm. Then, her lips, her mouth, her tongue is there. Can you hear it? I ask her. Mhm, she mumbles and continues. Then, she rinses her mouth, she brushes her teeth with my brush and she wipes me off with a wet handkerchief. Are you an eagle or a sparrow or a seagull? She asks. An eagle, I say without thinking. Are you a lion or a horse or a hyena? She asks. I’m a horse, I say, with a mane made of silver lightning. Why are you an eagle? She asks. Because of the heights and the solitude, I answer behind my closed eyelashes. Her lips keep on exploring my body. Why are you a horse? She asks. The horse is a traveler, I tell her and I push my fingers in her hair that caresses my chest. When did you realize that you had to discover yourself? She asks as she pushes her tongue in my belly button. When I lied for three days without food on the floor of my room, I tell her, and I feel the lighting entering her and shivering with my every word. You have an erection again, and it distracts me in deciphering the metaphor about you, she says and she climbs on top of me. I enter immediately, like a piton in a hole. My erection has a mental nature, I tell her and I bite one of her shoulders. You have feelings and power, she says, while her inside is pressuring me mildly. It can scare the people one day, she says. Some will not trust you, she says, and some will want to destroy you or subdue you. For you, she says, submission is more shameful than a defeat. You have both feelings and power, she says again. Yes, but I don’t have an awareness about myself, I tell her, and I get up, I lift her and I put her down in the table next to our bed. This is our bed, I tell myself, and I say in a low voice: I thought that this was our room, when you opened the windows yesterday. Every part of the planet is our room, while we are close in our souls, she says, and I say nothing, because that is what I think. My sperm flows inside her, with a slow pace of a heavy foot, and the eternity ticks in my veins. She shivers under me, several times, I kiss her breasts, her lips, her ears, her forehead and I slow come out of her. I still have a mild erection and it all continues…

2018-08-21T17:22:54+00:00 June 30th, 2010|Categories: Prose, Literature, Blesok no. 71-73|0 Comments