Status Updates From Na površje

“The lake didn’t matter to them, only the system: it would be a reservoir.”

“The next minute he had scrambled up and was capering on the point, shaking his clenched fist and yelling "Pigs! Pigs!" as loud as he could. It was some Americans, going past on their way to the village, their boat sloshing up and down in the waves, spray pluming, flags cocked fore and aft.
They couldn't hear him because of the wind and the motor, they thought he was greeting, they waved and smiled.”

We found that someone had built a fireplace already, on the shore ledge of bare granite; trash was strewn around it, orange peelings and tin cans and a rancid bulge of greasy paper, the tracks of humans. It was like dogs pissing on a fence, as if the endlessness anonymous water and unclaimed land compelled them to leave their signature, stake their territory, and garbage was the only thing they had to do it with.

Further on, glossy color prints, forgotten boys with pimples and carnations, myself in stiff dresses, crinolines and tulle, layered like store birthday cakes; I was civilized at last, the finished product. She would say "You look very nice, dear," as though she believed it; but I wasn't convinced, I knew by then she was no judge of the normal.

"Do you love me, that's all," he said. "That's the only thing that matters."
It was the language again, I couldn't use it because it wasn't mine. He must have known what he meant but it was an imprecise word; the Eskimos had fifty two names for snow because it was important to them, there ought to be as many for love.
"I want to," I said. "I do in a way."

2/2 - since then everything had been glancing off me, it was like being in a vase, or the village where I could see them but not hear them because I couldn't understand what was being said.
Bottles distort for the observer too: frogs in the jam jar stretched wide, to them watching I must have appeared grotesque.”

1/2 “I didn't feel awful; I realized I didn't feel much of anything, I hadn't for a long time. Perhaps I'd been like that all my life, just as some babies are born deaf or without a sense of touch; but if that was true I wouldn't have noticed the absence. At some point my neck must have closed over, pond freezing or a wound, shutting me into my head;