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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 101-102 | volume  | November-December, 2015



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 101-102November-December, 2015
Prose

GARGLE

/8
p. 1
Igor Stanojoski

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GARGLE

    At the time in Lemberg* when a revolution in the hospitality industry was taking place at the beginning of the twenty-first century, most of my friends dreamt of one day running their own café, and engaging in a battle to turn their ideas into money. If one considers carefully the origin of this desire, one needn’t be surprised, nor take it too seriously. Simply, the order of things in life is such that a young man who leads an ordinary life must arrive at such a notion at least once, and quite spontaneously. Imagine the young man after he’s had a few beers and he has the urge to urinate. The moment his bladder is overflowing usually exactly coincides with the moment when his brain cells begin to impose on him the idea that he is Superman. The idea of Superman is associated with power, and power is associated with property, being in charge of people and possibly even with creativity. Finding himself in a venue that makes him happy, the young man will come up with the idea of starting up his own bar, café, restaurant or rock group.
      
     Opening your own café in Lemberg is not as exciting as it might seem. At times you have to be stronger than Superman. In truth, it’s also quite a creative endeavour in which the chance for a few cheap thrills is relatively slim. You get to choose the décor that appeals to you, and play the kind of music you like, create your own club, your own world, one which you’ll share with others. The interior designs of the other cafes, as original as they might be, aren’t patented. You can adapt one of their ideas, copy numerous others from your competitors or import one from abroad, and still feel like a very talented designer.
      
     Although all of my friends talked about opening a café, I knew that it was only me who lived and breathed the idea. And not just when I was drinking beer, but when I was thirsty as well. My dream of owning a café became a reality in 20 Now, eight years later, I wouldn’t say that I regret having opened one, but neither am I overjoyed. One thing’s for sure: at the time, I couldn’t have imagined how much the café would change my life.
      
    *
    I remember that afternoon






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