*Ko razume shvatice...

Naša osećanja, dnevnici...
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CecaPolak
~ pocasni gradjanin ~
~ pocasni gradjanin ~
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Порукаод CecaPolak » 05 Мај 2011, 14:04

Ne daj se ni zivotu, ni smrti...
ovaj te zanese, ona odnese,
nema veceg zadovoljstva nego
prevariti ih oboje...

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ignja
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~ moderator ~
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Место: tamo daleko
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Порукаод ignja » 30 Окт 2011, 20:40

Ovi što imaju pare, a ne kupuju knjige, ne bi ni imali para da su čitali knjige. Meni su, ipak, mnogo škodljiviji ovi što ih kupuju, a kad vidim koje i kakve knjige kupuju, mnogo bi mi draže bilo da ih ne kupuju nikako.

Pravi pisci nikad do kraja nisu zadovoljni svojim djelom kao što ni kruška, vjerujem, nije zadovoljna svakim svojim plodom. Međutim, teško roditelju koji se odriče svoje djece. Svaki naš ispisani redak rad je na tome da jednom napišemo nešto vrijedno pamćenja. U tom smislu poštujmo i svoje najbezvrijednije stihove.

Razliku između velikih i nas dolje možda će najbolje objasniti primjer neponovljivog Da Vinčija. Naime, na samrtnoj postelji, plačući, reći će Da Vinči: “Umrijeću, a ništa nisam uradio!”. Mi se, nažalost, bojimo – umrijećemo, a toliko smo toga uradili. To je to. Veliki strijepe i sumnjaju, a mali već vjeruju da su veliki.

Nekada je nagrada vrijedila onoliko koliko slavniji postaješ kada je dobiješ. Danas, nagrada vrijedi onoliko koli novaca dobiješ za nju. Ako je, pak, dobijena, a nije zaslužena, u tom slučaju uzalud nam i slava i novac.

U životu jednog pisca najljepši su oni trenuci kad je djelo gotovo i kad nastupa ono razdoblje koje nazivam – krečenje. Kao domaćin pred slavu odaje, tako i pisac kreči svoje djelo, još kad ima dobru četku…sve pjevuši ko Maraja Keri na godišnjem odmoru.

Ne volim prazne i beskorisne intervjue, gdje uglavnom nabrajaju zasluge i uspjehe koji su naravno uvijek diskutabilni, a pri tome prećute kako je na Marsu klima veoma surova!

Na programu je opšta bježanija. Muškaraca u alkohol, žena u lijekove, djece na internet. Niko neće da bude sa sobom i svoj, osim amatera. Amateri nikad nisu bili veseliji, a zašto i ne bi bili kad im nikad nije bilo bolje. Tancaju, pjevaju, pišu, slikaju – a kaznu ne plaćaju. A sajmovi knjiga su postali kao sajmovi peradi. Svaka selendra može da ih organizuje. I odjednom Gornji Vakuf postane Frankfurt, Donja Piskavica Lajpcig. Danas svaki smarač može da se pojavi na televiziji i u novinama, ali to više ne znači NIŠTA. Ako imaš novca uopšte nije problem da u Veliku Obarsku dovedeš Madonu da izvede početni udarac na derbiju Mladost-Bratstvo iz Bronzanog Majdana. NEMA NIŠTA SKUPLJE OD GLUPOSTI.

Žmirim, ali kad oči otvorim vidim da je opšta kampanja u svijetu, a i kod nas, da ti glavna vijest iz kulture bude kako tamo neka Jovana i mili joj Željko zimuju na Maldivima, da je Eva Mendez ljepotica vrele kubanske krvi, prva riba planete za 2009., da misica Rahela prodaje donji veš u bescijenje, da je Kevin bio na roštilju kod Britni, a da nam je Rasel Brend, napokon, otkrio da spava s tri žene dnevno. Naravno da me je ganula vijest kako je četvrti slonić (napravljen vještačkom oplodnjom, a rođen na Floridi) dobio ime Barak, ali, ako nastavimo ovako odosmo svi u kurac.

Kao da sam ovo ja pisao, a ne Boro Kapetanović
КUPUJEMO STVARI, KOJE NAM NE TREBAJU
SA PARAMA KOJE NEMAMO
S JEDNIM JEDINIM CILJEM
DA FASCINIRAMO LJUDE KOJE NE VOLIMO

Корисников грб
CecaPolak
~ pocasni gradjanin ~
~ pocasni gradjanin ~
Поруке: 2620
Придружен: 11 Окт 2006, 21:19
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Порукаод CecaPolak » 26 Нов 2011, 19:09

Ne daj se ni zivotu, ni smrti...

ovaj te zanese, ona odnese,

nema veceg zadovoljstva nego

prevariti ih oboje...


Корисников грб
CecaPolak
~ pocasni gradjanin ~
~ pocasni gradjanin ~
Поруке: 2620
Придружен: 11 Окт 2006, 21:19
[phpBB Debug] PHP Warning: in file [ROOT]/vendor/twig/twig/lib/Twig/Extension/Core.php on line 1266: count(): Parameter must be an array or an object that implements Countable

Порукаод CecaPolak » 26 Нов 2011, 19:42

Ne daj se ni zivotu, ni smrti...

ovaj te zanese, ona odnese,

nema veceg zadovoljstva nego

prevariti ih oboje...


Корисников грб
CecaPolak
~ pocasni gradjanin ~
~ pocasni gradjanin ~
Поруке: 2620
Придружен: 11 Окт 2006, 21:19
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Порукаод CecaPolak » 31 Окт 2012, 11:57

ovo cu postaviti tek da se podsetim kad se zablenem na netu, da pozurim....kad padnem u depresiju da ustanem, kad uletim u euforiju da se sredim, kad se izgubim da se nadjem jer ovde se uvek vratim....


Chapter 43
In that single elusive moment, unconscious and unconscientious, which in its naïveté moves away from us and springs up, seething with animosity, in our attitude toward everything that could have been part of a social life; the one which had brought him tacitly into old age, down the cunning path that had petrified his footsteps from the real world, taken away the possibility of having a family, or every opportunity to be better and more helpful, less cautious and more common, softer or at least more receptive, Handsome Gill remained imprisoned, the way he had often been, by the longing for and illusion of a sentimental old man, and they sometimes caught up with him despite the sturdiness of his ratio, his cold-bloodedness, perhaps even cruelty which a man like him must possess and which a man like him, such a lonely soul, has to come to terms with.
Too just to turn the blind eye on his debts, and yet of a pretty clear and sound mind to end up in ignorance and madness of lust, or not to comprehend what the price of not repaying such a debt could be, he concluded that he had to act on two levels simultaneously, be on both sides at the same time, measure with two yardsticks, leaving it up to the higher power to decide who will end up holding the hot potato.
‘What do the two of you want?’ he asked so abruptly and hostilely that Aaron and Julian started up, as Lithia remained completely calm.
‘We’re confused, Gill. We need directions,’ Aaron stammered.
‘Directions to what?’
‘Miss Lithia refuses to go any further until she has some sign, and that sign could be the text from the book,’ he couldn’t decide whether he was answering or asking.
Gill pointed at the book lying on the table.
‘Take it and open it,’ he said gruffly.
Lithia took the book carefully and remained standing confused like some lost little girl.
All eyes were on her. She felt her hands trembling as though she’d been holding the weight of a ton in them. Agitated, she opened the book not daring to look into it. Someone pulled it out of her hands. It was Gill. His forehead frowned slightly. A deep line, which hadn’t been there before, all of a sudden cut into his skin, and his face took on a quite different air.
‘Virtues for the attention
Of those seeking good
Through the gate
Of a return through time’
He closed the book.
‘What does that mean?’ Lithia asked cautiously.
‘It means you’re not going anywhere from here. You’re here to help with your virtues to uncover a secret from the past. Beside is a picture showing the stone of four powers you possess.’
He felt a slight shiver under his skin when he looked at her.
‘So, what do I do now?’ she was genuinely confused.
He had seen those eyes before. He was sure of it. It wasn’t the incredible resemblance to Gold, although it undeniably existed. Those eyes of hers had belonged to someone who had passed through his life close beside him. They had the shape of cat’s eyes and were penetrating like X-rays. From the very first moment they left the possibility of retreating before their coldness, resignation, and suspicion. But if one dared dive into them, they were two lakes, clear, and full of bright, discerning sparkles.
He remembered the German man, the officer who secretly brought him candies when he found him in that underground room on the eve of that fateful day. And then he came back one more time, right when the firing squad was executing people outside, and as Gill, a mere young boy, watched through the window bars the bodies collapsing. The officer went into the room and put him on his lap, as Gill was numb with fear. He held him tight to suppress the quivering of the tiny body.
‘Relax and let it go. Do not listen,’ the German told him repeatedly, and then covered his ears so he couldn’t be able to hear the dreary bursts of death. When it was over, the officer took him to the truck which was already overloaded with human corpses, and packed some food in a bundle along the way which he then slipped into his hands. The officer then kissed him on a soiled cheek and smiling like the only ray of light in that whole goddamned day, told him, ‘You stay alive, you hear me? Stay alive…’ And then he was gone. Gill remembered that the officer looked as if he was hiding from something or someone himself. He disappeared of the face of the earth. When Gill turned to wave at him, he was nowhere to be seen.
Those were the eyes. The eyes which had seen it all, and which, because of that, from time to time turn into two narrow slits to observe the consequences. The eyes in which simultaneously reside both light and dark, and which strain when they’re to estimate and remember. The ones which lay one bare mercilessly, but also caress mercifully. The eyes of a lone wolf. Sad, because loneliness poisons everyone but him; playful, because the circumstances affect everything but him and his loneliness. He started to falter and sink into unpleasant memories. Within a moment or two, he relived that distant, terrifying dream.
He remembered how someone from the crowd at the ceremony said that the clock had been taken back to Italy. Then his teacher described the place, ‘green as spring, domed, and with a mantle fluttering around the footsteps of a well-known man’.
His memory then shifted back to the next day, when everybody was dead and he was lying in the truck, crushed under the weight of human corpses. Then Franz came and pulled him out of the silent heap by the legs, as he kicked and scrambled. Franz slapped him.
‘I’m Franz. What’s your name?’ he spoke to him in Spanish.
‘I don’t know,’ he was honest.
‘Didn’t you hear me? What’s your name?’
‘I… I really don’t know. I can’t remember.’
He caught the boy by the ear and pulled him out of the truck. He then addressed the soldier standing behind him.
‘Unload the corpses into the first ravine and burn them. This one’s coming with me.’
The soldier hopped, clicked his heels, and acknowledged the command.
Franz then put Gill into his big, black car.
‘What was your teacher’s name?’
‘Hayaley… I think Hayaley…’ tears were rolling down his cheeks.
‘And you? What’s your name?’
‘I don’t know. Something like the wind… I can’t remember.’
He recalled that the soldier was observing him closely, trying to figure out if he was lying. That lasted a few moments, and then Franz shrugged his shoulders.
‘Why would you lie to me, anyway? And why the hell do I need to know your name?’
His Spanish was pretty bad.
They drove for some time in silence. Gill remembered that he had shivered like a tiny stick burdened with snow. Another question ensued.
‘What did your teacher know?’
‘He knew everything.’
‘And you, what do you know?’
‘I don’t know what I know. I knew something that my teacher taught me, but I do not know now if I know it still.’
Franz braked abruptly and looked angrily into his face.
‘Listen, boy. I hate war, and I hate murderers. I think I just proved it to you. But today you have but two things to think about. The first one is a concentration camp. I can’t drag you along with me, and I won’t kill you, but if you’re of no use to me, then you’re nothing but a burden. And if you are a burden, then I’ll get rid of you. Little boys don’t quite have a good time in those camps. People there often lose their minds; sometimes they eat themselves, sometimes their children; sometimes their teeth are pulled out by soldiers, and sometimes they’re put in gas chambers where you die very slowly. Sometimes they’re raped. In such places one prays to God to die. The other thing you should be thinking about is whether you can help me. If you remember who you are, or if you know anything your teacher knew, we’ll be good friends and you will be under my wing. I’m not saying it will be easy for you, but you’ll survive, and nobody will harm you.’
He looked at the boy significantly.
‘The clock isn’t there where you left it anymore.’ He wanted to survive. He remembered that well.
‘And how do you know that?’ the young officer started to laugh.
‘Easily. We saw you handing a copper casket to some priest.’
This time the officer got serious.
‘And who may you be?’
‘My teacher and I, while he was showing me how to look.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘I don’t know,’ he started to cry. ‘But I know that you wanted to trick the man with wolf’s eyes. But he tricked you.’
‘Ah, you’re obviously all mixed-up. He’s dead, my dear boy.’
‘He’s not dead, I’ve seen him. He’s alive, and he’s gone.’
‘Where’s he gone to? I guess, there where I took the casket.’
‘No. I don’t know where, but it’s not there. The casket isn’t there anymore, too.’
The young officer pretended he was having fun, but despite his smile there was visible fear in his eyes.
‘And who took it?’
‘A little girl.’
Franz heaved a sigh of relief when he heard that.
‘A little girl, you say?’
‘Yes, a little girl. She’s a little bigger than me and she tells nice stories. Yes, and she has a baby brother.’
‘You’re not of much help to me. And you obviously don’t wanna be my friend. Don’t be afraid, I’m not gonna kill you. I’ll take you to a place and you’d better behave yourself there and survive until I return for you. If what you’re telling me is true, count on it that I will return, I promise you that.’
Within an hour or two they reached a perimeter which looked like a concentration camp, one of those his teacher had told him about. The young officer entered one of the small buildings and remained there for some time. Then he peered out and gestured to him to come over.
‘You’ll stay here for a while, until I return. Nobody will touch you, and you try not to make any problems. And pray to God to see me again.’
Then he left without looking back.
Gill remembered that room well. Half-room, half-office. A big, ugly giant was smiling at him menacingly. He even heard the man’s teeth clenching. The man was looking at him with burning, ugly eyes, and then approached him.
‘What’s your name?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You forget quickly, eh? That’s good. Come over here,’ he started unbuttoning his pants. Then he grabbed him with his huge hands and turned him toward the wall. ‘Don’t you even think of making any sounds,’ he said panting like an animal.
Over the many following years Gill subjected himself, as part of his craft, to various magical procedures for alleviating pain – yet this particular pain had stuck with him forever. He was a toy in the hands of that giant for quite a long time, until Franz came back for him just before the capitulation of Germany, and he had never managed to remember his real name. And now these two appeared like out of the blue to make him remember and relive the whole thing. That’s why he exploded.
‘What are you doing now?’ he screamed at her. ‘You should thank dear Lord that you’re still alive, and go, together with this idiot here, to hell. Who the hell do you think you are? What do you think you can achieve in this race which people much smarter and more powerful than you have been running for thousands of years? And who the hell are you to have any opinion about it? And what gives you the right, to you, girl who came out of nowhere, to stand in the way of someone who has been working all his life to realize his dream? And why did you call me, what do you want? You’re rushing on blindly without having any idea about what kind of secrets and sacred persecutions you’re getting into. You haven’t come up with anything that someone else hasn’t already thought of before you.’
He was shaking with rage. Julian and Aaron exchanged puzzled looks, but Lithia remained calm.
Gill turned and went to his room. It was all because of those wolfish eyes that penetrate to one’s core. For them, he was small again, a terrified apprentice who had forgotten his name.
‘Stay alive,’ echoed in his head.

‘Let’s go,’ Lithia pulled Aaron by the sleeve, ready to go.
‘Let me just get the keys. Julian, I’m taking your car, only until tonight.’
Julian waved to him that it was all right, still under the impression of Gill’s fit of rage. He stood on the very same spot where he had been standing while Gill had been yelling. Lithia and Aaron left.
‘I could hardly wait to leave,’ said Lithia.
‘Yeah. He’s got a nasty temper, tough energy, and apparently many secrets.’
‘A trauma, I would say. I didn’t copy the text.’
‘I did. What are you planning to do?’
‘Go to Hess’s place and see what I will find there, and then… we’ll see.’
‘Where should I drive first?’
‘Drive up to Richmond, then take Judas St. at that big service station owned by that Chinese guy. I should pick up the second key there. I really am not sure, but as far as I remember Hess had a house in Laguna Honda. There I should pick the documents and his computer. Just please hurry up. I’ve got a feeling that things are getting more complicated as we speak.’
Aaron had the same impression, but he had suppressed it in order not to upset her. It was no more a question of his will – now he had to do it. For Gold, for justice, for everything that represented the imperative of good which now appeared merely in traces, and he simply in no way want to lose Lithia. Driving Julian’s car in silence, he became determined, his lips pressed hard against each other, to do this to the best of his abilities, even if that might be the last thing he’d ever do.
Ne daj se ni zivotu, ni smrti...

ovaj te zanese, ona odnese,

nema veceg zadovoljstva nego

prevariti ih oboje...


Корисников грб
CecaPolak
~ pocasni gradjanin ~
~ pocasni gradjanin ~
Поруке: 2620
Придружен: 11 Окт 2006, 21:19
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Порукаод CecaPolak » 31 Окт 2012, 12:22

Džaba im što vide, džaba im što vide...kad moraju da gledaju.
Ne opravdavam ja put iz svetlosti u tminu ali razumem kako je kad se nagutaš raznoraznih asteroida pa godinama ne možeš da ih svariš. Pa ljudi smo. Ako smo i neljudi.
Koliko se samo filozofije krije u najskupocenijim pićima a kako omamljen da vidiš da se opijaš sa slonovima u staklarskoj radnji.
Ja sam rešila da zaboravim i zanemarim sv
e što ne razumem.
''Ja kad hoću da budem neko i nešto odem dole''- reče Bob Šurdi. Antologijska rečenica. Bila... Sad više nije jer se dole popelo gore a gore postalo još gore.
Ništa nas je obuzelo i kad si nešto.
Niko nam je senka i kad si neko.
Kolektivna svest gubitnika. Nisam baš u dosluhu sa matematikom ali neka mi neko izračuna koliko mi to već godina vičemo''nikad gore''. Ako su tačne proporcije i veštine nesvesnog uma i sugestivnog uvažavanje istog u odnosu na ono kako je stvarno moglo da bude a kako i da nam bude bolje?
Ja mislim da smo mi prestrogi prema njima, onima od kojih nam je gore. Čini mi se da nam oni nekako samo očelice volju i istreniraju izdržljivost. Kako bi inače posthumno marširali: ''Čekaj da se povampirim pa ću onda da se najedem''....eto...možda mi pogrešno tumačimo njihovu izobličenost i ignorentnost. Ko je nama kriv što nemamo kondicije. Treba da jedemo na vreme.
A tu veštinu treba učiti u školama i uvesti kao redovan predmet. Savlađivanje gladi. Da se deca od malih nogu uče halapljivosti. Pa da svi budemo debeli i zadrigli. Na samo oni imućni. Onda bi mogli da se jedemo međusobno kol'ko 'oćemo. I niko više ne bi bio gladan. Pa da se onda zbroji zašto smo ni za šta ako nam ništa ne fali.
Misli nam vazda blude nekud, samo da je dalje od sada... Ako ne mozemo goru budućnost da zamislimo, mi se zabrinemo...vratimo se časkom prošlosti. Vrti mi se u glavi. Sve u krug, sve u krug...e, pa neću više. Od sad samo pravolinijski kurblam...džaba im što vide, džaba im što vide...


http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=PN4 ... =endscreen
Ne daj se ni zivotu, ni smrti...

ovaj te zanese, ona odnese,

nema veceg zadovoljstva nego

prevariti ih oboje...


Корисников грб
zara
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~ pocasni gradjanin ~
Поруке: 8573
Придружен: 02 Окт 2008, 17:29
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Порукаод zara » 31 Окт 2012, 19:49

Ja mislim da smo mi prestrogi prema njima, onima od kojih nam je gore. Čini mi se da nam oni nekako samo očelice volju i istreniraju izdržljivost. Kako bi inače posthumno marširali: ''Čekaj da se povampirim pa ću onda da se najedem''....eto...možda mi pogrešno tumačimo njihovu izobličenost i ignorentnost. Ko je nama kriv što nemamo kondicije. Treba da jedemo na vreme.



ps.Ma sve je da se naježiš! Istina da zaboli vampire ,nece! Oni koji su shvatili smisao ovoga napisanog s pravom ,nocas slave "Noc veštica" Gde ce posle ? pitam se ...u poslednje vreme,vrlo cesto .
Ceco...puno te volim i svako slovo razumem .Al šta da se radi ? Oni s lovom,napuniše štandove,pronadjoše sponzore,izreklamirani i nadobudni.stalno bahati i vecinski pijani,pobediše na ovom sajmu ove godine.Sledeci ne zelim ni da vidim ...dok ovakvu dozu bahatosti, ne zaboravim!
Niko nije tako lep dusom kao jednostavan covek

Корисников грб
CecaPolak
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~ pocasni gradjanin ~
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Порукаод CecaPolak » 02 Нов 2012, 12:52

neka njih...sve ce to narod pozlatiti...da odmorimo malo pa idemo jos jedan krug, popustiti im a zasto?? Nismo mi gori samo smo bolji :)))

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iz1QAN9ejRo[/youtube]
Ne daj se ni zivotu, ni smrti...

ovaj te zanese, ona odnese,

nema veceg zadovoljstva nego

prevariti ih oboje...


Корисников грб
zara
~ pocasni gradjanin ~
~ pocasni gradjanin ~
Поруке: 8573
Придружен: 02 Окт 2008, 17:29
[phpBB Debug] PHP Warning: in file [ROOT]/vendor/twig/twig/lib/Twig/Extension/Core.php on line 1266: count(): Parameter must be an array or an object that implements Countable

Порукаод zara » 30 Дец 2012, 17:42

Слика





ps:Sve najbolje)*
Niko nije tako lep dusom kao jednostavan covek

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faraon
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Порукаод faraon » 27 Дец 2014, 11:57

...čitam Vas dvije
čitam
i pitam
kad ovako dvije Dame
mogu da oči pune smećem i kontejnerima
nije slučajno
što je dopušteno ljudskim zvjerovima
da rade to što rade...
...ako ih ne primjećujemo
njih i njihova djela
doći će vrijeme
a koje bi
i jedna i druga Dama
h t j e l a...
Pozdrav i s rukoljubom,-naklon...
Faraonn Tumnopoteh I.

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sensej
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...Čovjek ne,- s m i j e ...

Порукаод sensej » 01 Јан 2015, 11:38

...

...volio bih
da Novo Ljeto
kako je i od starina godina
nazivana
da prolazi u sjaju i toplini
a to može samo
ako i drugima isto omogućavamo
da bi nam omogućili
ne slušati
niti vidjeti
ne prenositi
niti poradjati
valove koji potapaju
i u mulj pretvaraju...
...mogu sebi dati još jednom
već zadati Zadatak
neću
i,
nemojte
ni sebi
a
kamo li drugima
ni na sjenku stati
i
sve će
bar pokušati
da sija
ili početi cvati
i...
...i samo ću Vam
Riječ dati
da će Ovdje
kao i u srcu Faraonn_a
opominjati vječna Zvona
kao ona sa Jerihona
da čovjek čovjeku
ne smije jedino
vuk biti...
a
pratite tragove vukova
i učimo
kako Čovjek
ne,- s m i j e ...


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