No news is usually good news. Not in my case though. Dubai sent me an email asking for patience while their HR manager processes my job application. Whatever that means. So, the game is not over yet, nor is the wait, but it grates on my nerves.
Days are clear and sunny, but quite chilly. Persistent wind makes otherwise enjoyable runs really difficult whenever the route turns north. It slowed my 10 km to average 4:51/km. At least I’d rather blame it on the wind than on age.
Seems that the melancholia I dove into while reading “The Cellist of Sarajevo” took such a firm hold on me, that I went on to read “Elijahova Stolica” (“Elijah’s Chair”) written in Croatian. It’s a story about an Austrian writer who learns that his real father was a Jew from Sarajevo, and goes to Sarajevo under the siege to try to find his father, or some clues about who he was. I must admit, after 12 years of reading English only, I am really unused to reading in Croatian, its phrases now seem awkward, its metaphors clumsy. Also, the young author Igor Stiks, plays cheap tricks, constantly hinting what was about to happen next in the story. It’s the writing style I despise. Why am I still reading then? I don’t know! For the longest time I could not watch TV shows or movies about the war in Croatia and Bosnia. Only recently, something heavy lifted off my chest and I can think of my past without feeling the heavy weight of depression. So, I guess, I’m indulging in that newly found freedom and masochistically reading mediocre books to prove to myself that they don’t affect me any more.
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