Writing can be done without a prescription - Branka-Baretic-Milenkovic

Writing can be without a prescription - Branka Baretic Milenkovic


Whenever I was educated at the classes of the language I was resisting, after reading a piece of work, to the obligatory question of the professor "what the poet was (writer) wanted to say?" Beginning intuitively, and later, as I grew up, all the arguments against. All these analyzes, already set, imposed, force the gurana in our baby's head. I've allowed myself to be my personal experience.

Maybe Dostoyevsky would sue me, Dučić was angry, Andric went out of the country, but exclaimed gentlemen, I do not know what you wanted to say, but I sign what I say as I read you.


Since then, little of the bunta, a bit of anxiety, I was involved in a bumblebee called "say like a lame". Love still lasts today. Unconditional. There is no buzz for inspiration, it imposes itself. You open a little window of the soul and it is. As a thought that you can not pronounce, but you will easily put it on paper, so after they ask, "what does the writer want to say?"

Writing (Branka-Baretic-Milenkovic)

Like a picture. As a forgotten experience I want to keep from patina. Fear, faith, care, love, longing, death. It all went somewhere to the surface. There is no shame before words. There is no fighting, condemnation. Everything else is somebody's, but they are forever and only yours. The most painful way to have a friendly conversation with yourself. You touch your shoulder like after a good job.

Writing (Branka-Baretic-Milenkovic)

I finished writing a monodrame. I went to bed. The word-tears-lek. That's the hook. You're treading yourself out. Do you wrong with injustice? Write and cry. Do you mind the loneliness? Well, it hurts you. Write and cry. Whatever hurts, writes and weeps. He'll do less.

But the word-laughter-medicine, it helps. Exactly. Here, for example, I go, like kobajagi, the other day, to Irig at the fair. And I run into these three smudges.

Lepo smo doterale.
All velvet and silk.
And the colors were chosen,
little rose, little lilac.

As real ladies,
under the hats of scythe hair.
Al 'because of crowds and gallows
We went to the path of Bose.

The dilemma passed
from the ovamo, the 'onamo.
There is no nigd.
Where did we go? We know.

All of the above, instructions for use, receive a reservation. They are completely subjective and have unimaginable consequences. However, if you insist, it may be better to contact a doctor or nearest pharmacist.

Branka Baretic Milenkovic
Branka Baretic Milenkovic

Branka Baretic Milenkovic

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