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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 92 | volume XVI | September-October, 2013



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SLOVOKULT.DE
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BALKANI
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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 92September-October, 2013
Prose

Heat

/3
p. 1
Dragana Kršenković Brković

The silence of the apartment was broken by the even strikes of a distant church bell. The old lady lifted her head from the book she had been reading and gazed into the cloudless sky. The old clock finished striking noon and she thought how good it would be to take a walk. She laid the book down on the table, which was cluttered up with medications, the remnants of biscuits and with her silver filigree and amber jewellery. She rose with some effort and made towards the door.
    The old lady stopped at the exact moment she stepped onto the street. The sunlight was so strong that she had to close her eyes. A blazing red disc filled her vision, changed direction, approached and moved away, pulsating with its own rhythm and eventually disappeared.
    “The July heat can be quite unbearable,” the old lady thought to herself and went on towards the riverside embankment.
    The promenade was empty. No one, save a few cyclists, was on it. Walking slowly, she strolled along the familiar path, casting her gaze along the drooping willow branches and poplar leaves that slightly quivered in a barely noticeable breeze, and up to the vermilion tops of a tree whose type she couldn’t quite make out. This slender, proud tree, as it seemed to her, rose above the dense greenery, aspiring to the heights above and opening its unusual reddish-brown foliage wide towards the sun.
    Her attention was drawn to a wide tree-trunk growing to the right of the path. She walked up to the tree and, stretching out her palm, touched the rough bark, admiring the intense lines of the wavy ridges and enormous knots which extended right up to the treetop. She gave a weak smile and her wrinkled yet pretty face lit up for a moment.
    She remained for a few moments with her palm pressed against the trunk and then went on.
    It was becoming almost impossible to breathe because of the humidity. As she watched the thrilling dance of shadows on the ground, for a moment it seemed to her that she was passing through a space which was in a world of its own. Separate and special. As if, so she thought, she was roaming through a world, which only looked like the old one she knew so well. But it was actually different. More like a dream or an apparition.
    A dark shadow passed over






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