Poletne zore se rojevajo tako, da vse preplavi modrina, zimske, da se v megli nekaj zaiskri, in to je vse.
To sem se naučil že zdavnaj, še posebej to malo lekcijo o modrih poletnih zorah, naučil sem se jo na avtobusni postaji v Zadru, ko sem opazoval pristanišče, vojaške ladje, ki so spale privezane, nepremične, kot mrtvi kiti, nasedli nekje na peščenih in udomačenih obalah nenaseljenih otokov v oceanu. Kiti ubijalci, tako sem jih doživljal, kot mrtve morilce.
Takrat se mi je, osemletnemu dečku, zdelo, da sem s tem pogledom na svet rešil ves problem, vse vojne v zgodovini človeštva, imel sem nenavadne pacifistične ideje o tem, kako izkoristiti vse vojaške igrače, sam bi jih preprosto zažgal, potem pa s tem “pridušenim ognjem” vozil avtomobile ter oskrboval s tokom bolnišnice in šole, pa tudi luna parke.
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Summer dawns come all blue and winter ones have a sparkle in the fog and then it’s all over.
I learnt this a long time ago, particularly this minor lesson on blue summer dawnings; I learnt it at the bus station in Zadar, looking over to the port, watching the navy ships which were sleeping anchored, still, like dead whales stranded somewhere on sandy virgin coasts of uninhabited ocean islands. Killer whales, that’s how I imagined them, like dead killers.
Then, an 8-year-old, it seemed to me that with this outlook on the world, I’d solved all the problems of the whole world in the history of humanity. I had strange pacifist ideas on how to make use of all these war toys, I’d simply set them on fire, and then use this “low fire” to drive cars and provide power to hospitals and schools, actually even amusement parks.
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