december 1975.
The so-called bench, which we made out of the apricot trunk, stayed for a few years, and then its bark began to rot and nobody wanted to sit on it.
The new apricot was already planted.
She sewn the skirt by herself. We called it electric, because it always managed to accrue enough static while rubbing on stockings, to stick to the legs. Looked good all the same, and was frequently featured in the photos this year and next.
The garage door is open because I wouldn't be bothered to close it both when leaving and upon return. Sometimes it was easier to walk to a place than do the whole drill of opening all four panes of the garage, put a brick on either side so it doesn't close by itself, open both panes of the gate, put a brick to the short pane only as the long one's spike would hook behind the edge of the path, drive out the car, close the gate, then all of that in reverse upon return. One loses the will.
This is Beštara sneaking on me for this shot, probably in the morning. The whole series of shots from the room was made with his new Beirette, which was a better amateur shooter, probably of GDR make. Didn't turn out too bad, considering the shitty light we had. On a couple of shots the façade of the building across can be seen, it's close, as gray as is proper for the scrict center of the city, and extending one more storey above, not much light could come through the one window we had. We had one lightbulb, and though it was a whole hundred watts, the ceiling was high and it wasn't really much. The shots turned well, considering.
Of course, I made a shot of him like this as well, but he was facing the wall. I don't understand how could I sleep supine, I always sleep on my side. Perhaps the combination of november and a few months of smoking staž and the black tobacco did me in. He said I snored solidly when I slept like that.
At the time I was still using the one big and one small pillow combo, just like pretty much everyone I knew did. Institutional sleeping (hotels, dorms, vojska) had just one big pillow. Many years later, perhaps in the nineties, I just understood that I can't endure having a pillow under my shoulder, and that my neck is far better relaxed on just one small pillow.
This could have been shot five years before or after as well. Mom by the machine, sewing, granma in her armchair next to the cocklestove furnace, reading newspaper. Depending on the time of day, she could be watching teevee or taking a nap. Before going to sleep, she'd bring out my linnen from her room - the sheet, duvet, pillow - and put them on that armchair, and then I'd make my bed when I felt like it. The whole ritual - lowering the backrest of the couch, spreading the sheet - would take place every day, for years. It would be interrupted only when I'd have a flu and not get up for a week.
This should be the end of the month, we bought a red lightbulb, I assume for doček. I know it's not for the laboratory, I had a yellow-green light in there, DDR made, with a 15W bulb inside, such as goes into a sewing machine.
She sewn the coat herself, and knit the cap, and embroidered the flowers on it.
The chit on the pole by the right edge of the photo is the bus timetable. The timetable wasn't of much use, it was barely readable, coming from a typewriter with barely any ink in the ribbon. And the drivers didn't quite stick to it. During the day they did, mostly, it was the last ride that was a gamble. The unwritten rule is that the last ride passing through center after 21:00 will not return, it will go to the garage after the last stop (all the lines went from end to end of town, center being halfway, except the round trip to Čurda, which went center-hospital-Čurda one way, and in reverse the other). The trouble was that often they wouldn't wait for the scheduled time, but started on that last ride as soon as they unloaded the passengers on the farther end. So the 21:15 bus would be gone by 21:05. Many a show or literary evening would lose audience, because the people were in a hurry to catch the last bus. Living in walking distance from downtown influenced your culture.
The visible piece of curb was the bus stop. It sometimes held four buses at the time. The #1, to šećerana, would be the farthest, where those two are, and the #6 for Čurda would be in the front, as it wasn't easy to maneuver it out between two others, it was a joint, three-axle job, aka Radojka and Tine (Živković, the accordeon players couple, famous at the time).
Speaking of buses... one friday afternoon, on the busodrome in Novi, we already had tickets and were on the concourse, smoking the last one before departure. Some guy stood with us, chatting just like people tend to, while waiting, and at some point got curious about my beard, and just grabbed my jaw, fingers under my left ear, thumb around my chin, and turned my head right angle to my left, to observe my profile. „You're from the police?“ I asked. „Um, yeah... how did you guess?“. Well, buddy, you don't get much chance to practice that move if you're working in a kiosk or at a lathe... Don't hink he was a real udbaš, probably just a candidate, practicing the skills.
Mentions: Čurda, doček, Milovan Sebešćen (Beštara), Novi Sad, staž, šećerana, udbaš, vojska, in serbian
4-VIII-2022 - 12-XI-2025