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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 95 | volume XVII | March-April, 2014



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 95March-April, 2014
Prose

Mirror

Translated from Croatian by Andy Jelčić


/5
p. 1
Miroslav Mićanović

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Mirror

You are getting out of the bathroom after what you have done behind the closed doors. Between us is a small corridor with a large mirror. You are disappearing in the left corner, because there is a wardrobe. I want to see you naked in the mirror, so I flee from the computer and turn around: the only thing I see is my repeated face in a vast and abandoned space.

I return to my place before the face of the screen, striking the characters of my keyboard: shall I summon you in this way, shall I describe you? By confessing what I wanted I show how weak I am and this will take revenge on me in my future life, in the text.

But who would worry about that now? Where are you, I mean to say that this is important to me? What are you doing? What are you wearing, I am asking about the cover, about the end.

Cyclone

They said that the Genova Low was coming and because of this liberating news we have decided to depart from our temporary leisure home. This was supposed to be the best thing to do for all of us, to be done within the next half an hour.

And that was all.
    And that was all.

Now we are closing the doors in a hurry and we have done everything necessary before that: took the food out of the gas refrigerator that we would turn off later, unsure of one thing – should we have closed the door or should we have left it open, like this had been done by our predecessors. They were not much of a role model, having left so many untidy and imperfect things behind them. We know that the house owners, our relatives, had encouraged this approach by a pile of bread cut in slices, left there to the joy of creeping and ugly pests or by the omnipresent smell of decaying potatoes found in the storage under the stairs.

We could have called a stop to all that and changed it. Now we should pack quickly and tidy up a bit; we collide, hands and different jurisdictions intersect. But, as much as this is left unspoken, we know with whom the authority lies; there are no great changes in these roles and nobody protests. The children have grown up. Suntanned, tall, and beautiful, they






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