#PERIOD AFTER Jasmina Tesanovic - 15/05/1999- Belgrade


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May 15, 99
The woman I see on TV works as a registrar for marriages , in the center of Belgrade, in the biggest municipality: more marriages in war than in peace: brides in white dresses and soldiers ready to go to the front, she calls them future marriages. Then, young people coming our of shelters, deeply in love, going straight to get married...Then many pregnant women with whoever with them, sometimes only a piece of paper in their hand from their husband to be...And a fact, more children are born in war than in peace and more boys than girls...Again, I don't believe this world as it is, it seems made for war more than for peace. Night under alarm but without bombs: let me speak about a new common phenomenon here: sleepwalkers. I would say people are really cool on the streets, too cool for my taste. Only babies scream when the alarm sets off, the only reasonable beings with fear...In the evenings, the city is dark, completely dark, you step into puddles, dog's shit, vomits and spits ( that last being my obsession) but otherwise, people play the music out loud, dance near the windows with candles, sit on their doorsteps, near the cellar, to watch the low planes, exactly 675 last night...They developed humor, black humor, solidarity, fatalism, love for their kin...yes, a very specific Belgrade that is, at it's best, electrifying , dangerous and loving. Not as in 91, when the war in ex Yu started, when Belgrade was at it's worst: nationalistic, primitive, with squares full of dressed up people in ridiculous uniforms, angry with other nations , politicians... I guess Belgrade as any too big city is both all the time, depends what boils up and that is not predictable, history is art not science, this war proves it... But coming back to cool Belgrade: it is so until the dawn. Then, people go home, to their beds, the worst raids being over...Then they dream, they have nightmares, all of them... I heard so many stories, people tell nothing but their dreams to say how they feel. The dream seems one common dream with personal deadlocks. It is a dream of not recognizing your bed, flat, place, city: of roaming through your own house and shouting for the names of your loved ones, out of reach. Dreams shouldn't be interpreted, they should be lived, as stories... Sometimes, we living in the same house even meet sleepwalking, speaking, shouting words of loss, but in the morning it is never the same, we can never tell what really happened and where it led us: since we are still here, dreaming again the same dream.
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