O autoru

Ili bolje od toga o autorima sakupljačima priča miodrag nađa đorđe kristina jelena milena peca matja nesa milica ajnštajn nasrudin i ostali.

Smislili smo pre deset godina da napravimo jednu amorfnu simbiozu iliti bezobličnu smešu fantazije I nauke u obliku oniričnih priča iliti gomilom snova definitivno zasnovanu na mašti sedmogodišnje dece i krajnjeg dometa astrofizike koja se graniči sa religijom i još i primesama potvrđenim istorijskim činjenicama a to smo uspeli tako što smo zamislili da je svaka ta priča po jedan grafit na zidovima kobalt plavog zvona gde je u sredini  naše srce smućkano sa crnom rupom koja je umnožena ali jedna baš onako isto kao i sva naša srca.

Tako da nas ima mnogo i ko bude hteo taj će nas pronaći.      

About the author

Or better about the authors who gathered those stories.

Ten years ago we thought  about constructing an amorphous symbiosis or formless combination of fantasy and science in the way of oniric stories or a bunch of dreams definitely based on a seven years old child ideas and a final achievement of astrophysics which bounds with religion as well as proven historical facts and that we achieved so that each and every tale represents a graffiti on the walls of the cobalt blue bell in the center of which is our heart blended with the black hole which is multiple but single in the same way as our heart is.

So that there are a lot of us and the one who wishes to find us shall do so.


A story above all stories

The Shaolin monastery

Popsh!Popsh!squishes the poor distorted  Little Boy zigzagging like crazy on his smashed legs alike a crashed gypsy harmonica up the abnormally high steps leading right to the office of his venerable father where the wisest teacher was wisely hiding.

Thus says the Little Boy Hughschtavsch or Gustave for no one will ever understand the true sound of his name and therefore they named him Jules.


Yes my son!growles like a bear in barrel of mud his honorable father.  

Popsh zhey kickedsh me outsh ofsh zhe Shaolinsh monashterysh!

Why so my holly son?

Becaushe I sheeetsh too mucsh zhey shay!

Because you seat too long in deep meditation my son?

No no mysh venerablesh fathersh itsh ish jhusht becaushe I sheeeets!

He does what does he do?asks the master to the whole lot of his apprentices who barged into his forbidden office at once uninvited as always except for Lyones but that is another story.

He said he fluncked Shaolin!says laconically Biga the red head pretty girl child of the Maldive islands.

What she says?yawns the master.

She said they kicked him out of the Shaolin monastery because he poops all the time ooooooo venerable teacher!screams in her cool catlike rage the beautiful Lyonessa owner of their wonderful home here on the island of Ios lost in the Aegean sea like a blistering pearl in the dark cosmos.

Or the shining cosmos only you can not see the light if there is nothing it can shine on!as would often say Meja and Seja the Martians.

What do my ear hear spitting a tear from my right eye?enrages the master like a tycoon in a typhoon.

Left eye o my father!says solemnly Ripilinda showing the black pirate bandage on her own left eye with a middle finger to give it strength although sometimes the bandage happened to be on the other eye but whatever.

Zaza the unbeatably sniffling girl from Paris got all in tears.

Teresa the lost one who got always lost even in her own bedroom got lost.

Lyones the boyfriend or whatever of Lyonessa grabbed instantly his bottle of whiskey to terminate it and therefore give him the strength to do nothing at all whatsoever.

And the white bear whom Biga and Lyonessa picked up the one and only sunny day in the Swedish ice hotel put on his orange sunglasses and watched with sorrow the sad room not being able to see the fullness of the beating up the wise teacher administrated on the crashed shoulders of his miserably holly son Jules while Wolfy the werewolf from Transilvania and son of of a one Dracula grabbed on the left foot of G while as usually cursing fresh roasted young turkeys.

Well thus writes Megan in her notebook with the eyeliner of Beauty the beloved ugly and only true love of Ahmed the unmarried coward who flew away on the back of his wisely lying colloquial camel and into the strawberry chewing gum flying saucer of Meja and Seja.

Gorich and Svjetlanovich read all of this on the balcony of their sweet home on the Mogren beach taking a long sip of cool beer and laugh until they stop laughing as the Hindu postman strikingly  reminding them of Riksha like the street car rikshaw and whom Biga brought to Ios from some village in India and who was carrying a giant stinking package  where from appeared the disgusting head of Jules eating patato peelings and besides him the pretty blonde eyeglassed face of Mimosa cousin of Lyonessa and nephew of master G god only knows how.

Oh lord another year of kid seating!say two Montenegrians in tears of bears.

So it comes and goes on the island of Ios.