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Silba and selfishness


by Falimimore · 0 comments in Stories

I accept the task of joining two seemingly disparate words that share the same initial letter. Silba and selfishness. And myself, I admit, it sounds a bit strange and weird and at this point I have not even fully aware of what will emerge on the surface of the paper when a sentences create a line. It seems to me, and it is astonished too, white and blank looks forward to see how will fingers give form to an idea which is gushing out into the world …

How is Silba connected with definition of selfishness by Anić that says ‘selfish is the one who thinks only of himself, who is only concerned about his benefits’? Huh, I wonder!, But thought is imposed and what to do with it than let it go in life. Let it show! What is she thinking, why it want to be attached to the Mul, Žalić, Pocukmarak, Tratica, Paprenica,to float anchored in Pernastica, Dobre vode, Nozdre, Karf, Ugljenica, Loišće, Vele stene, Draga…? If she wants to swim in the purest blue that can be imagined, through which you can see sand, pebble, rock, bottom covered with abalone shell, sea cucumber, sea-urchins, notch with playful sea anemone? Has it intend to collect periwinkles, limpets, a cuttlefish bone or pumice stone while wandering the coastline?

Will it sit in a tavern on whose porch between wooden tables is a free space so swallows that are nesting on the roof have enough space? Is it wants to see itself on whos wall it says ‘Lavie en rose’ or to find out where once at the bar were spalled plastic bottles with frozen water to have a drink with ice? It might want to check itself how far is the beach where once were created rebellious lyrics, which writes on the oldest grave at the cemetery of Pocukmarak where still live a long time ago and recently gone people, known and unknown, for whom is still lit at least one candle every time someone visits? Is it interested in the wells scattered along the village and courtyards, with interesting inscriptions and year of construction? Maybe it wants to see a young little-owl fearlessly sitting low on the wire under which silent walkers pass by, imagining how in past times around here rustled elegant lady dresses accompanied by men in suits, a hat and starched shirts, just like in a real metropolis ? To hear a story of who, when and why raised stone wells on the southeast edge of the coast or a large pool on the northeast of the island?

But wait a minute, selfishness should be noted… where is it in all this? A thought got absorbed in play as a midday breeze, you can not catch it so flirty! Or… it knows well what I’m talking about – from one visit to the island there wouldn’t be much use except, perhaps, the fact that in the middle of thousands of people who are during the summer on such a small space there is always a place where you will not be disturbed and which you can declare ‘your own’ during a short stay. For everything else, it takes more … years of listening, wandering through the paths and lanes of island, capes, ports, forests, it takes many conversations, persistent detection of secret world which above the visible surface slowly reveals its grandeur.

Due to that irresistible and seductive gradation, adjustment with its hidden pulse can last for years. Because of that selfishness is essential and that is why it’s here a desirable attribute. In fact, everyone from true enthusiasts sharpened it on their own way. While the variety of motives that attract us to Silba counts the number that is probably higher than its own surface, so many of us are connected with that same selfishness because we think only of ourselves and of our benefit. Because we want to feel the fullness and joy of life that island is full of under the peace, fragrances, beauty and harmony which are noted at the first look.

Yes, I understand. And Silba is selfish in its own way. It flatters it to breathe and live through us, people who love it. Island and man together, like body and soul. Or two bodies with one soul? I can’t tell, I can’t decide. But that’s no longer important to you, isn’t it, my thought?


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