Cultural Institution Blesok • Established 1998
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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 36 | volume VII | May-June, 2004



                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 36May-June, 2004


p. 1
Zoran Kovačevski

    When I returned to Resen I was no longer young, and the city had grown old as well. The door of the Tourist Hotel swung like an old man, loosely hanging on loose hinges. And everybody I met was older but still familiar. Only the mosques, still white, looked at me from the hillsides, and, higher on the hill, the church tower with a smile on its mouth.
    Rako said to me, “You’re the first to get off that bus in a month.” The suitcase was pinching my hand and I went into the café to rest. I had been to many countries and my eyes had admired many wonders, but man is tied to his place, and one day everybody goes back to where he came from. I returned to Resen. Cara dyed her hair on Saturdays; Josif went to the newsstand in the morning and, sitting next to the salesperson, read all the newspapers that came to our town.
    Our town was a box. I had a horse, a white one, and in the morning I rode into the gardens and mountains. The horse trotted along the fields, around the foliage and stones, green waters, a spring that it leapt over easily. When it got tired, I would let my horse take a breather, let it graze as I lay under the pear trees and took a nap.
    One day Josif said to me, “What do you intend to do? Work or leave?”
    He hated idleness. No matter how much he loved me, I was his only son, and he couldn’t stand watching me sit around. I kept quiet and looked over his head. Then I said, “And what will I get if I work? I don’t want to work.”
    He kicked me out of the house. Along with the horse. Then I found an old carriage at the dump. I fixed it: it needed two wheels, and I stopped at the square--maybe somebody would get off the bus, a passenger from far away with huge suitcases too heavy to carry, and he would ask for a ride. I tossed hay in front of the horse, and I dozed while I sat on the front seat with the whip in my hands. I had found an old leather cape with a hood, and when it drizzled I didn’t move from my carriage; I just covered my head with the hood and watched my

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