The beginning is November. November 3rd, actually. Already? We are both warmly dressed, and yet I took that ridiculously larger blanket again, as if we were going on a September picnic. You know, one of those especially magical trips of ours, with sandwiches, chocolate, wine, and Indian chopsticks whose fumes supposedly repel mosquitoes.
I hug you and kiss you, hug you until they “crunch”, sniff your wavy hair that spills over the black coat you got for your birthday and wear it for years, until it gets its place of honor in the closet dedicated to the Holy Things of Youth.
It’s dusk. We walk towards the forest. I can feel the smog. Yes, the first sign of winter.
“It is a grove where a dog with different eyes lives. Remember, we petted him back then. It’s magical. ”
“I remember. Anyway, is the Mp3 player still kidding you? I brought it to you
“Great, I found my sister’s dictaphone too. I also have some audio cassettes and batteries. Hehe, my special compilations… ”
We play the tape, open a bottle of rum, stick cheek to cheek, share headphones and sips of rum. Uriah Heep, Pink Floyd, Haustor, Azra, Leonard Cohen…
The first snowflakes soon fluttered towards your curls. We found shelter under a small pine tree. Then I took a blanket, we spread it out and improvised a standing tent for two.
A tent of love, good music, curly hair, the first November snow and eternal kisses. A tent that I will remember forever.
Marko Antić was born on October 11th 1980 in Paraćin, Serbia. He is an underground poet and writer. His work is published in the fanzine “Green Horse” and Serbian and regional poetry and short stories anthologies. Formal education: Bachelor of Law