On a green knoll just outside Brimmington there was a circle of stones that bees never entered. Within it stood a grove of locust trees, fragrant in the spring. If you looked close enough, however, you would notice the stones and the grove were never mirrored in the calm pool under the knoll. The sun,…
Baku pamtim po mnogim stvarima – najboljoj štrudli od jabuka, grah pireu i faširancima, blagom, ali prodornom pogledu njenih plavih očiju, neki put i šibi po dupetu, kad bi se buraz i ja potukli oko neke gluposti, ali i po pričama.