Comments about Boban Bogatinovski
This holiday starts to make me tired,
vacuum in the empty streets,
everybody is at some dull picnic,
how many bears Russian way should I drink
to feel something
not knowing what? !
The passersby heads floating in the air,
their thoughts making prints
in the sky above the houses
As if we all grew old instantly
I search for the conversation sense,
where we stopped on the way,
sorry neglecting you, I wandered somewhere.
Too hot is in the restaurant
in the town's outskirts;
-The beer? ? ? – the waiter asks.
-No. The air, the air is too hot! !...