The sun shines in Toledo all day long

She said I was unable to understand what was so beautiful about the skies of Spain, the rundown buildings of Spanish cities and most importantly the men and women who always seem to be madly in love and not afraid of showing their emotions in the bustling streets of Madrid. I visited Spain last month for the first time and I attended a seminar in a small city of Toledo, that was an half hour away from Madrid by high-speed train. Perhaps it was her who wanted me to see Toledo in this period; they celebrated Corpus Christi and fireworks exploded in the blue ocean of the heavens; children painted their faces with Spanish yellow and red; concerts were held in the main square of the city and everyone smiled, laughed and looked happy; streets were blocked for the parade and people stood on each side of the street, the smallest ones trying to see as much as possible; I drank in the castle with people who I had known only for six hours and still I felt like I had known them forever; huge cathedrals rose out of nowhere and the city seemed to be a manifesto of Christianity; liters of Sangria were bought, spilled and drank; the truth about Spain was revealed.

My stay in Toledo included every-night drinking in a parking lot of the cattle; climbing up terribly hills in order to get to the city (and later on to find out that there were escalators to the city); sharing secrets; finding out that Spain was nearly as beautiful as she had been telling me.

Yet there seemed to be something missing constantly -

my love who was in Croatia.

To Spanish Kiss

You took my hand and saidToday we will go to Spain and kiss in Spanish.

Oh God, but I don't know how to kiss in Spanish!I panicked, walked in a circle, I felt as if the bridgethat connects my heart to yours was crumbling,nothing made sense, I should be happyyou will take me to Spainand you will me show
the world.

You touched my left cheek, my eyes dwelling in chaos,your fingers moved to my left ear, gently massaging.
We know how to Spanish kiss more than anyone else in the world.
And then you kissed me.
The world trembled.

Old buildings greeted us wherever we talked hand in handpeople to lesser extent, but as always you said that these
grey, wine-stained walls have seen more than any human being could ever imagine.

It was like we were back in the 1950s,yellowish tinted sky with a hint of explosion.
Beautiful, I uttered in your arms.

You suddenly stood up, ran ahead of me but not away from me.As suddenly you had stood up, you also stopped running.You turned around, now looking at me and smiling.
Now the city is beautiful.

I looked at you and thought to myself,I will always be love with this manwho will always be in love with me.
And I ceased wondering why and just enjoyed.

The Croatian paradise

Rovinj is the European equivalent to Zanzibar, the paradise on the Earth. Run-down windows, decaying walls, speechless windows and streets in which cars are unable to fit now & tomorrow. The town is bursting with joy and laughter and things simply feel good in this city. Cafes sprinkled around the Stari Grad (old town), homemade ice cream with a selection of pistachio and yoghurt and whatever your mind can think of. Italian tourists speaking their own language and the Croatian is tuned down from place to place as they have lost their position as an overwhelming majority in this part of the country. You take the hand of you loved one in secret, because someone could still you & scream something at you, yell, mock, attack, but you are too much in love with the serenity, with the silent words craved in the air for centuries and and most importantly you are too much in love with a person who is everything to your mind & heart & soul. Rovinj holds you tightly & 

everything is alright once again.

They want to be something

-- wandering, lingering.

Once you were not much to look at.

Today you are beautiful.

Take a coffee in this street

-- watch them wandering, lingering

while you sip your coffee & smoke a cigarette.

It goes on & on,

never ends.

And it all is so old, you think.

I think I fell in love with the windows

-- they have told me more than you could ever

said even if you read aloud the dictionary to me.

We all linger, wander.

But we live, too.

Rome stole everything from Pula except for her love

This is not Rome, you whispered.

I know, this is something more.

This is where we met.

I worship no else than you,
no else than you is my God.
Your heart is my altar.

You fantasized about red buildings in
the small alleys of a Croatian coastal city.

You said one day we would have an apartment here
& this would be the place where we would grow old.

Together, I added.

From the balcony we would watch tourists and locals
whispering gossiping chatting yelling discussing
and in the balcony we would be
kissing loving being
happy.

Trg means square in Croatian, you guided me.
Volim te means I love you, I said.

Volim te ovaj u trgu.
And everywhere else.

Rome stole everything that this city has,
its heart, its beauty, its life, its world and mind.

You were not right, though.
The city has still its love.

And no one will ever be able to steal it.

What do you say about yellow buildings instead of red buildings?
It doesn't matter as long as you are in the building with me.
What do you then say about yellow buildings in which I am
instead of red buildings in which I am?
You made me laugh.

Windows after windows, they keep telling stories in a strange language
that only two of us could talk -- that's how you & I felt and that's how
you & I will feel forever.

Walking through the gates, your palm reaching out to mine
& and I am not afraid anymore.

Do you see the seagull?
What seagull?
That one, just above the building.
Are you just making fun of me? You know seagulls are extinct,
they kept falling out of love cheating after cheating.
No, I am not! Really it is there!

See, just above the antenna!
.......
I told you so!
But that's impossible, that cannot be....
If you asked others, the love we have is impossible, too.
(I began to be speechless and you just held my hand
& everything made sense.)

(One night when I slept in the red apartment of ours, you left.
You came back and I didn't noticed you being gone.
In the morning you took me out for a walk
& there was a drawing of me in the building.

You told me once again,
you love me.)

(And I was unable to mutter anything back,

I was too lost in words, but you understood

everything & you knew, that

I loved you, too.)

One day we live in a blue house! We simply have to live in all of the prime colors.

As long as you are...

...yes yes, I know, as long as I am with you, you will live anywhere.

Yes.

Do you know your heart beats for me?

We fell in love with a city whose identity was robbed by Rome,

but whose love was untouchable for anyone & everyone.

(My heart beats only if I you are next to me.)

Paris is not the love of my life

It had been five months since I saw him & everything that I had believed in finally became real, they were just not a story after a story. He kissed me in the metro, took my hand and told me that he loved me and this all happened over and over again. Our fingers kept reaching to each other even when children were looking at us with a smile, even when a Muslim person walked by us in bright daylight, even when someone yelled after us. We took a metro from one place to another, he took the lead as he had been to Paris many times before and this was only my second time. I noticed that he liked to see at what station we were each time the train would cease moving, he was calculating all the time how long it takes us to our final stop. A man came to us, offering us a silver ring in exchange for two euros and as we were too happy to care, we gave him the coin and he left us happily. We would buy breakfast every morning from the shop next to our hotel, baguette, hummus, yogurt, ham and cheese, walk to the river and sit there, eating, kissing and witnessing the beautiful world. One morning a woman came to us while I held him in my arms, said something in French and I understood absolutely nothing, but he spoke with her and she was smiling, bursting into happiness. When the woman left, he told me that she had just said you two made my just day and everyone, everyone around us knew that we were in love. We kept holding hands even when had been holding hands for several hours, construction works yelled at us who is the woman in the relationship, in French obviously, I again understood absolutely nothing, but he translated everything to me and I just smiled, kissed him and we kept walking around the streets of Paris, walking in love.

The day before the departure day we took again a metro, the Parisian horribly old wagons squeaking, to the landmark of an emotion that has manifested in us. Under the tower, him holding me in his arms, he says one more times those three words and I reply with exact same words with all my heart, feelings rush from one place to another and everything is too good to be true. He looks at me with his green eyes that speak as well -- if not better -- as his tender words. He holds me tighter and asks will you marry me? and the only thing I could say is yes.

We celebrate; Martini Bianco bottles open & and a moment after they are empty. Happiness, I jump onto him, kiss his lips, his neck, his ears and people around us keep looking at us, American tourists practicing her French and commenting: l'amour! A police car comes by and calls for us, my beloved collects all the empty bottles and goes with them to the police offer who kindly asks us to go to a hotel room. He comes back, slightly confused with his bottles and I tell him I am engaged to the silliest man in the world, aren't I? He smiles and kisses me gently, telling me it is time to go up, the moment we had been describing to each other in emails for past five months.

When there is you & your loved one, a recently engaged couple up in the Eiffel Tower, over-looking lit up and traffic jammed Paris and chilly wind blowing into your ears, knowing that this is the last day you two will spend together for another three months at least, the feelings are too overwhelming to be remembered and felt ever again in your life. Your loved one's tears falling from the Eiffel Tower to the ground, laughter becoming more and more silent, things slipping through your fingers, it is all too confusing when reach the moment of such a happiness that you cannot be happy, because you are afraid of losing the joy. It is all too scary, they say.

Last day, he bought a ticket that was hundred euros more expensive in order to spend one hour more with me and travel through Brussels. At Bruxelles-Midi station everything crashed -- I had four minutes to rush to my train and say goodbye to him. I ran away, I literally ran away from my happiness and it all was becoming real, I was actually losing my joy, it was too much. From Brussels to Amsterdam, I cried more than I had cried in my entire life. Strangers bought me wine for comfort. One woman told me goodbyes are never easy. Another man grabbed my shoulder gently and said, everything will be fine. And I realized -- even without him being next to me, people know that I am in love. Madly, crazy, infinite. I am in love with him -- and that will never change.

The man was right; today everything is fine. I live with him in Croatia & I am happy.

The love story of the snow and the sun

Snow piling on your shoulders, light flakes becoming heavier

& things evolving to something related to the word complicated.

Branches weep, because they are naked.

They shiver in the cold, and no one holds them

to keep them warm.

They think I am too cold to love, the snow cries.

And most certainly it was horrible as she

had fallen in love with the sun.

They are unable to touch each other;

they are unable to make love;

they are unable to hold;

but they love no matter what.

The snow can only watch the sun; she can witness the sun waking up

with a smile, when he sees the snow looking at him with love.

Faded colors, vintage sky and factory smoke

all were jealous of the love story the snow & the sun.

The boats sailed across the world to share the story of the century.

No one in Maldives believed that the sun could fall in love with such a thing as snow.

In the Antarctica no one believed that the snow could ever fall in love

with something that is the deadliest thing to her love.

The boats sailed to places such as Congo, Switzerland and Paraguay.

Branches, the naked and shivering ones, wondered how it was possible.

Wondering people believe in limits, boundaries and restrictions.

The world slips through the fingers of wondering, rational people.

There world is not that complicated --

the snow is in love with the sun.

Simple, as the boats said to the story listeners in Bulgaria.

One day the spring will come, though.

The love story of the snow and the sun is a short story.