magipersic – Magis Dolls

Let

magipersic — Mon, 13 May 2019 06:24:11 +0000

Ljetujem na Šilu. Moja prijateljica je bogata i ima stan na otoku. Bogata sam i ja, jer imam prijateljicu. Na putu do Rimskih stijena sakupljam biljke, zahrđale čavle, osušene grančice. Pretvaram ih u suvenire i amajlije. Moja djeca skaču s Rimskih stijena, s prijateljičinom djecom. Tad se pretvore u lastavice. Ne gledam njihov let. Slušam samo cvrkut. Zatvaram oči od plavetnila. Morske i nebeske dubine. Između neba i mora, samo su naša djeca granica.

Treperim

magipersic — Sat, 30 Mar 2019 07:14:18 +0000

Svojom tankoćom, ganula me ožujska nježnost. S moje duše otopila zimske sige. Nazirem miris proljetnila. Oči mi kaplje rose, ruke boje šafrana, kosa vrba vjetrovita, isprepletena, a noge… eee, noge slutnja ljetnjeg nemira.

Shipmarine

magipersic — Wed, 06 Feb 2019 09:10:52 +0000

Once I was a child. I figured I would become the captain of the ship and sail through the vast seas. Now I have grown up and with some miracle, my dream has come true! Even more than that. I became the captain of my life and the vessel which I navigate and the wind that flays me and the sea that washes me. The captain who is sailing through the big azure of the sky in search of the island of my childhood.

Brodmornica

magipersic — Wed, 06 Feb 2019 09:03:03 +0000

Jednom sam bila dijete. Maštala sam da ću jednog dana postati kapetanica nekog broda i ploviti nepreglednim morima. Sada sam odrasla žena i nekim čudom , san mi se ostvario. I više od toga. Postala sam i kapetanica svojeg života i brod kojim brodim i vjetar što me dere i more koje me pere.Kapetanica koja plovi velikom, nebeskom plaveti u potrazi za otokom djetinjstva.

Blanket

magipersic — Fri, 18 Jan 2019 08:24:28 +0000

The heart is all-seeing. As I write, I see images. As I paint, words overwhelm me. I’m afraid if I stifle this torrent, I will go numb, and if I stop writing, I will go blind… and will lose everything , protected only by the gentleness with which you cover me before sleep. With warm, blue blanket. Like a night fireside, starry as a celestial sea.

Dekica

magipersic — Fri, 18 Jan 2019 08:17:49 +0000

Srce je svevid. Dok pišem, vidim slike. Dok slikam, preplavljuju me riječi. Bojim se, ako zapriječim ovu bujicu, zanijemiti ću, a ako pak prestanem pisati, oslijepiti ću..I ostati bez svega, gola, izložena. Zaštičena jedino nježnošću kojom me prije sna pokrivaš. Toplom, plavom dekicom. Poput noćnog ognjišta, zvjezdanog kao nebeska pučina.

Bosnian Pot Stew

magipersic — Tue, 15 Jan 2019 13:03:06 +0000

There are times when I do not know what to cook (and cook one must). I overturn inwardly, my bowels, and I’m deaf to their ideas. I take ” disheveled scrap-scratch pad” – a home cookbook (Food network does not help) and read in the order, seeking an ideal recipe, a lottery win for that day: Branka’s chocolate cake, Ivana’s fondue sauces, Papa’s recipe for cough, Branka’s cheesecake (from another Branka), Igor’s goats , yummy lentil by Ines, Grandma’s lokum-Turkish delight, Grandma’s profiteroles, Somebody’s mint syrup, Vjeko’s stuffed pancakes, Jagor’s cake from the end of kindergarten, Homemade slice, Maca’s spaetzli, Davor’s seitan, Vesna’s biscuits, Your chutney, Amila’s tortillas, Perfect color for painting, Arnesa’s Smurfs, Pizza pastry from a Belgrade Chef, Mirjana’s cake with little cherries, Grga’s pickled cucumbers, Helen’s sticks, Spectacular Spekulatius, Beti’s Sour Cabbage, Bear goulash from wild boar, Sweet&sour à la Ivana, Miki’s yeast dough, Senad’s Grandma…

All of these listed names, were dinners, breakfasts, birthdays, celebrations with dear friends…once. We shared them together, licked both fingers and plates. By writing those recipes down, I’ve inscribed these people into my stomach too. Into my guts. Some I am still digesting, some are fermenting, and with some I still gladly cook cook.

I am in some bluish Sevdah mood today. As if I did not drink enough Donat mg mineral water. And yes, today I miss some of these old friends. From lacking, I’m hungry. My bowels fizzle hollowly. Incurably hungry, and then again satiated with everything.

Definitely, love goes through the digestive tract, and mine just swan in! Constipation is guaranteed today for somebody else, because today I’m listening, on loudest, the song from Kemal (Monteno) “Thank you all from the time of the roses” and spawning the Bosnian pot stew! If you are desirous and hungry, stop by for a ladle of melodie,salt and rosemary, former friends, future friends!

Bosanski lonac

magipersic — Tue, 15 Jan 2019 12:52:17 +0000

Ima dana kada ne znam što bih kuhala ( a kuhati se mora). Prevrćem po svojoj nutrini, crijevima i gluha sam za njihove ideje. Uzimam „Kupusaru“- kućnu kuharicu ( coolinarika ne pomaže) i čitam redom tražeći idealan recept, zgoditak na lotu za taj dan: Brankina čokoladna torta, Ivanini fondi sosići, Tatin lijek za kašalj, Brankin čiz kejk (od druge Branke), Igorove kozice, Inesina mljac leća, Bakini lokumi, Bakine princeze, Nečiji sirup od mente, Vjekine punjene palačinke, Jagorov kolač s kraja vrtića, Slajo po domaći, Macine špecle, Davorov sejtan, Vesnini keksi, Tvoj čatni, Amiline tortiljice, Savršena boja za slikanje, Puhanci, Arnesine urmašice, Tijesto za picu beogradskog kuhara, Mirjanin kolač od malo višanja, Grgini kiseli krastavci, Helenine štangice, Spekularni špekulasi, Betino kiselo zelje, Medvjeđi gulaš od vepra, Svit end sauvr ala Ivana, Mikijevo dizano, Senadova Baba…

Svi ti nabrojani nazivi, jednoć su bili večere, doručci, rođendani, proslave s dragim prijateljima. Zajedno smo ih podijelili, prste i tanjure polizali. Zapisujući te recepte, upisala sam i te ljude u svoj želudac. U svoja crijeva. Neke još probavljam, neki se kisele, a s nekima još uvijek rado kuham.

Pere me neki sevdah danas. Kao da nisam dovoljno Donata mg popila. I da, fale mi danas ti neki moji stari prijatelji. Od nedostajanja, gladna sam. Crijeva šuplje šište. Neizlječivo gladna, a opet sita svega.

Definitivno, ljubav ide kroz probavni trakt i moja je upravo nahrupila! Opstipacija je nekom drugom danas zajamčena, jer ja danas na najglasnije puštam Keminu pjesmu „ Hvala svima iz vremena ruža“ i njedrim Bosanski lonac ! Ako ste ga željni i gladni, svratite na šeflju melodija, soli i ružmarina. Prijatelji bivši, prijatelji budući !

Nomen est omen

magipersic — Thu, 15 Nov 2018 15:09:54 +0000

Such are Masters! Busy. Inconsiderate. Skilful. They do not know with what is not their trade. They do not know with flowers. Their hands are too rough although they create the thiniest lines and landscapes. Their nose is clogged with the scent of paints and varnishes, rooted beneath their nail roots. And the flowers need someone to to be smelled by someone. To come out, spread its petals toward the one who feels. It is there to stop the world for a moment and take you to some new reality. And the craftsmen are constantly in their own dusty reality. They would break the petals just by looking at them. With the dust from their clothes they would smother the smell of the flower and it would simply wither . Flower.

Therefore, dear women, if you happen to be a flower and accidentally your name is Margareta, stay away if you know God masters. Their alter ego is narcissus and the only flower they see is the reflection of their mastery in their artworks.

Nomen est omen

magipersic — Thu, 15 Nov 2018 14:57:31 +0000

Takvi su majstori ! Vješti. Zaposleni. Bezobzirni. Ne znaju s onim što nije njihov zanat. Ne znaju sa cvijećem. Ruke su im pregrube premda stvaraju najtanje linije i krajobraze. Nos im je začepljen od mirisa boja. Korjenje noktiju izjedeno od terpentina i razrijeđivača.

A cvijeće treba da ga netko omiriše. Da izađe iz sebe, raširi svoje latice prema onome koji osjeća. Ono je tu da zaustavi svijet na trenutak i odvede te u neku novu stvarnost.

A majstori su stalno u nekoj svojoj prašnjavoj stvarnosti. Polomili bi latice svojim izbodenim rukama. Prašinom sa svojeg odijela zagušili bi miris cvijeta i on bi naprosto svenuo. Cvijet.

Stoga drage žene, ukoliko ste slučajno cvijet i slučajno se zovete Margareta, Ivančica, Orhideja.. klonite se, ako Boga znate, majstora.. Njihov alter ego je narcis i jedini cvijet koji vide, jest odraz vlastite vještine u njihovim djelima.