23.1.

As the winter break kicked in I  spent more time with Baba.
In Baba’s room almond twigs were in bloom on the table. Pa brought them from Zadar.
Baba said, “The almond is Christ”, and added: “His divine nature is concealed by His human nature or the body of the Virgin Mary.”

Baba combed her hair which, except for two wheat-colored sheaths in the back, had turned grey. Time has reaped it. Her gaze and her wrinkles made her look like a turtle.

Although she didn’t care about the alphabet a great deal, she did keep her Church and tax receipts.
As she paid more attention to numbers, I translated her name as follows: B-2, A-1, B-2, A-1 which as time passed was conveniently translated into TwonTwon. Deda was dead, but if he had been around, I would have called him 4-5-4-1,FofiveFone. This would have been  out of respect for Baba.
Twon Twon used to tell me Biblical stories. One of them said: “God the Lord made man from dust and gave him an immortal soul, and the man became alive... Adam, the Dust Man.”

I finished the story myself. The earth is full of seeds, man could sprout in the rain. An umbrella keeps man from sprouting and growing.

24.1.

Dusk.

Kogupura invited my parents for dinner. He is a butcher.
In his yard I would sometimes see hens, geese and turkeys running around. “Hens are angels, they have wings. The dog is a devil, he has a tail”, Twon Twon used to say.
I would wait in her room for my parents’ return. There was a wood stove on four legs there which looked like a goat, a wardrobe, a bed. There wasn’t any curtain. During the day I could look on to the road and at night passers-by could look inside Baba’s room lit with a candle.

I kept the fire alive. I was thrilled by fire and its crackling sound. Man is a fire. A picture of a stoker sparkled in my head. Baba was sitting on the bed. The light was coming out through the open door of the stove because I put too much wood inside and couldn’t close the door. The flame was jumping, spreading the light, it was rustling, crackling, blazing, sizzling and puffing. Crack, puff! The fire was greedily devouring the wood. As the stove howled, I got to dance kazachok. Along with the moaning and howling like a storm, one, two, three, I would jump up and clap my hands under a  raised leg. I repeated that with the other leg, and sang full force. “ We dance Kazachok by the fire...” In the evening I enriched my kazachok with some knives, since I didn’t have swords.  Baba fancied that dance. She tried to come closer to me, but I told her that this was not a pair dance.

My parents got back. I wished Twon Twon good night as I retired.

Staring at my father Twon Twon said, “My bed has overdied!”

25.1.

I wanted to teach Twon Twon how to write. She attempted to take my literacy course. She learned some of letters, like G, L, V, I, C, N... She practised the P. Once she mastered it, she remarked:
“P is a crooked sewing needle.

26.1.

TwonTwon had never been in a theatre. I went several times with my school. Most of all I liked the end when the audience applauded with an occasional “Bravo!”
I soon discovered that there were also different kinds of home applauses. Once mom was making fries. The potatoes were a bit wet and the oil was hot. It produced a thundering applause. “Bravo! Bravo!” I would shout. Today I showed TwonTwon an egg applause. One sunny side up in a pan, one applause. We heard sixteen applauses.

27.1.

Baba asked me for the first time to wash her back. She took off her apron. She undid two buttons, opened a safety pin and laid  her dress on the bed. When I put the cold soap against her back, I noticed a black square patch on her white slip. A black square on a white background. That picture along with some others were shown to us by our art teacher at the end of the trimester. By that time, he had had enough of looking at our drawings. I knew that Kazimir Malevich also had a grandma whose back he used to wash.

28.1.

Baba didn’t feel like getting up. She lay alive and motionless. At one o’clock, they closed her eyes. A coffin was brought in which she was laid, dressed in a light blue dress. People who were coming in were repeating, “A stroke? A stroke! A stroke...”

30.1.

I put on my boots and we set out for the funeral. Water was rushing into the grave. The reverend Father, who was wearing sandals under his robe, finished the sermon: “A coffin laid on water is like a seed  of the world, as the first sprout of life!”
While the procession was quietly breaking up, we heard geese honking on Laskarin’s property, which was adjacent to the cemetery. “Gha, gha, gha, gha....”
After the funeral I went to Baba’s room. Her smell remained there.

The pillow also remembered it.
Under the pillow on the bed I found Baba’s handkerchief with a knot at one corner. Baba would tie a knot if she wanted to remember a thought or something. Death. Forgetting or remembering?
Has the death untied the knot?

Grey: asphalt, buildings, sky. All One. A seamless sandwich. Walking with my body, I trace the road. The day of the big sink plunger. A small sink plunger is HRK 25 and it was almost mine. A vacuum rubber. "In a vacuum everything gurgles" said the doctor of physics, and he was right. "Blocked! Denied!" said the cashieress. She tries one more time. There is a problem, but the problem is also an opportunity. A visit to the bank and it was confirmed. One part of the universe is behaving badly. I save desire and will. The "bill collector" blocked it. Money never sleeps. Not even God. He Who counts, counts Everything. He turns night into day and air into fire. Every battle is decided in advance.

On the way back home, I followed a familiar route. Rhythm and dynamics must not be disturbed. Color therapy, I need you urgently! I enter the nearest shopping center to get rid of the gray color. I am coming back to myself and home.

It got cold and windy. Snow falls in a new way every time. This time, the flakes freeze as they fall, so snow rags are already hanging from the trees.

Our house is easy to find. It is in the center of the city and on the ridge of the roof mostly sits the shaggy tabby cat Tigi. The house is currently tied to the fence with the remaining telephone cable. An anteater, a suction machine for cleaning street drains tore it up. Some Service will fix it in a week or two, and until then the neighbors will explain to curious passers-by that our electricity has not been cut off. In the yard, an aluminum praying mantis with a human heart was leaning against the house. Master Josip did not make progress with the roof repair. "Šerauba", the battery operated screwdriver has not yet worked for him. A small sparrow town formed against the wall around the crushed bread crumbs... The sparrow, the flight controller, allowed the flock to land/take off.

I delay entering the house. The door is fused to the wall, the air, the sky. No door handle! I close my eyes and the handle is there. As I open the door (never fast enough), I fear and pray. If only she was in bed! If only she wasn't trying to get up on her own! I know it's in her memory! I believe she is well and alive. I am the heartbeat of her heart. I open quickly.

She s-l-e-e-p-s.

The holy mass from Medjugorje was spreading through the house.

While I was watching through the frosted flower patterns of the window the sparrow's eating habits (take, jump, carry, throw in the air), a chimney sweeper was approaching on a giant fireball from the depths of the garden. He stretched out in front of the window. He wanted to knock. The priest preached on the radio: "Don't be afraid, open to the Lord."

Burnt(3), red-hot(2), sootied (1) the chimney sweeper is here. I look into his eyes. He's hot and beautiful. A good foundation made me equal. I don't ask him about his walloping. Freedom creates extremes. As he climbed into the attic, he panted. Breath from the nostrils. Mouth. Teeth. Tip of the tongue. General spirit. The spirit that became faster than the body was panting. The spirit squeezed out the sentence: "We have a lot of time and so little to do."

The chimney panted with smoke. And the house, while sinking into night and snow, breathed and sighed. And it spread further, because the snow carried by the wind was opened the windows. There was breathing and sighing like never before. Moving to health. The breath settled, got glued and the visible world appeared.

The fireball loves company. It spread to the walls. An orange that warms, shines, sparkles, twitches. It knows how to hug and hold. The least imperfect. It made the air wild.

Distance from the target. Inducement fixed. The peeling process begins. The rainforest penetrates the desert. The kernel is white after it is freed from the black shell. Light molecules walked in the direction of LDGD slower and faster. The cylindrical milk gnome swayed, drooped and occasionally coughed. He was radiating accumulated heat and shrinking.

Last bet. It's almost dawn. Pink dawn. Someone has to turn on the Sun.

I look at his face. He kissed to the side towards the Invisible and disappeared. The ball jumps into the sky.

Plantations of snow sheets were already spread out on the nearby hills.

Still tied to the fence, chained by ice, our house resembled a steamship with a strongly smoky chimney.

The temperature dropped down to an unnecessary - 13°F. It's fine ! Hell is far away.

I got hungry. I open the fridge and take part of this year's harvest. And the cat came to the plate and wanted to reach for the scarab that was settled there and was alive. I moved it to a jar. Gradual transition. I return to the vintage-favorite black isabela.

Sugar comes at the end, grape sugar.