"Doctor Sleep: A Novel" by Stephen King (2013)

"The Shining" was my introduction to Stephen King and to this day I still find it quintessential work of this author, where all his best qualities are focused into white hot inspiration. Although himself he detest the movie, it actually cemented novel's reputation - I have enjoyed both many times and even now, if I find myself walking along empty hotel corridors, I will probably expect twins to stand holding hands somewhere around the corner, this is how strongly images are etched in my consciousness. On the other hand, "Doctor Sleep: A Novel" was the main reason why I finally made a big step and crossed over to e-books - as a die hard, traditional book lover, I refused to accept electronic gadgets but when I heard that King wrote a sequel, I have actually bought e-reader. However, the virtual library eventually grew up more and more to the point that selection became difficult - instead of counting sheep, I could just browse titles in my collection and fall asleep - to this day I have not read the darn thing until now and only because the movie is out so quick, quick, let's read the novel before someone pulls me to the cinema.

Even though author himself is very much aware that writing a sequel to such totemic work as "The Shining" might be a misstep, the challenge was strong + King often thought about what happen to that little boy who was the main protagonist. It turned out a mistake. Or perhaps mistake is that we expected horror on the same level as "The Shining" - it is not and in fact, "Doctor Sleep: A Novel" is more concerned with the idea that alcoholism might run in the family so lots of space is about grown up Danny Torrance slowly turning in his father and following his self-destructive pattern, finding his way out of it and going on AA meetings. It obviously means a lot to King (himself ex-alcoholic) but less to readers who get bogged with Danny's nightmares and booze temptations. The major turn off for me was the fact that author forgot that antagonists must be a mystery if they are to be scary - once you show their POV, their "otherness" is less frightening and in fact they can be even slightly comical. No doubt, it was all intentional and perhaps significant in a way that shows that author is less interested in horror genre - he is much older now and has compassion even for the baddies. Even with a few well chosen scenes, the final result is underwhelming and I thought "is this it?" - for some reason I didn't really care for any of the characters, however far from losing his touch, King still held me firmly and turning the pages but the novel is nowhere near the excitement and thrill of the original. Approach with caution - just don't expect too much. 

"My Love Story: A Memoir" by Tina Turner (2018)

Conversational tone of both Turner's memoirs is not an accident - tailored after series of interviews, they are results of what co-authors probably recorded and later re-arranged into "books" but where in 1986. Kurt Loder peppered his text with other witnesses testimonies, this time Deborah Davis and Dominik Wichmann (both curiously absent from the book cover) decided to quote lady herself exclusively - this gives the book a certain charm and authenticity but in a way it also means that the format of conversation keeps everything mainly lightweight. Fans and readers familiar with 1986. "I, Tina" will find lots of things repeated, while second part of the book - which is supposed to be update of what was going on after 1986. - focuses on Turner's lifestyle, clothes, favourite fashion designers and her many houses. Back in 1980s Turner herself mentioned that she would love to one day write a sequel with her take on serious issues, wisdom and spirituality but we get none of it here - curiously, there is almost nothing about the music, collaborations or even how or why specific material was selected but we get chapters about her wedding, bridesmaids and such. Giorgio Armani and Sophia Loren. Surely, she had worked hard and deserves all the luxury, her delight in house arranging and exquisite furniture is all very nice but honestly there isn't a thing here that could not be found in glossy magazines that cover lifestyles of jet set. We know she hangs out with millionaires on yachts, goes for dinners and fashion shows. Fine.

Reminiscences about Ike Turner were not so earth-shattering as we knew this from before - no matter how far she removed herself (and she moved to Europe basically to make sure they will never meet again) scars are deep and unforgettable. Interestingly, it seems she never forgave her mother - "She was a spoiled little girl who grew up to be a spoiled adult." The relationship with sons is glossed over - she is very much adored by millions of fans who would rather not stop and think what kind of person leaves her sons behind and moves to another part of the world with a new lover. Sure, they were financially taken care of but from a distance. You might say they were all grown ups and deserved their own path in life, however if you read between the lines there is a certain firmness that she inherited from Zelma and maybe its not coincidental. It even occurred to me that Turner is more similar to her mother than she cares to admit. 

Later in the book come the serious health issues and this is interesting part because Turner was always such a strong presence that it seems almost impossible that age will finally catch up with her and the moment she retires, her body falls apart. Could it be that all these years of punishing tours actually keep her healthy? Perhaps strong self-discipline and determination pulled her trough the decades of performing but once she hang out her dancing shoes, there was one life threatening health scare after another - interestingly, she managed to keep it private until this book was published. I genuinely like her and feel a strange kinship with her (perhaps the only celebrity that strikes me as real person) but I also understand that public clamour for "just one more tour" is unrealistic since she is obviously a frail old lady now and pictures taken during recent Broadway opening show that she was constantly gently supported by people around her.

"Amazing Grace" by Sydney Pollack (1972/2018)

I went trough a period of mild depression recently, caused by bad weather and my annual Autumn chest cold so without really paying attention to it, I went work-home-work-home for a few weeks and would not leave my bed, while poring rain outside howled outside my window. Nothing gave me any joy or pleasure and I just wanted to disappear under the bed cover and fade away to sleep. Than at certain point I realised this is not healthy anymore so I decided to treat myself with something nice and to cheer myself up, I bought a ticket for newest movie about Aretha Franklin. On the night of the screening I regretted that I have to go anywhere because it was pouring rain again but it turned out into magical evening. First of all, the audience was very excited and enthusiastic + it was obvious that everybody who came trough the wind and the rain really wanted to be there. I must admit that Dutch cinema audience is by far the most civilised I have ever encountered - they are polite, appreciative and at the end of the movie always respectfully wait until all the credits are ended (unlike in my own Croatia where stampede starts instantly and no one cares about the credits). Right before the main feature started, there was a trailer about the new biopic of Judy Garland and I was amused to hear man sitting next to me muttering "tramp" - it startled me initially but later I thought to myself, well yes, why pretending its otherwise, we can light the candles at her shrine and click our heels all we want but sad truth is that woman probably was needy pain in the neck and someone I would probably avoid in real life. 

And now to a main feature: almost 50 years ago Queen of Soul (who at that time was at the peak of her powers) decided to go back to her roots and show to the world that she never forgot where she started from - the project was called "Amazing Grace" and it was double LP album recorded completely live at Baptist Church in Los Angeles. It turned into massive hit and to this day is still the best selling gospel album of all times (a feat she was not able to top with its sequel from 1987.) but what most people were not aware is that simultaneously as the recording was made, celebrated director Sydney Pollack filmed the whole process and live documentary was planned - than inexplicably shelved, locked in some vaults and completely forgotten. To this day, it is not completely clear why exactly this exciting document was never released - some say it was a technical issue (syncing music with the footage), others it was Franklin herself who even hired lawyers to stop the release without her permission. In any case, it turned in a great blessing because just as Franklin passed away, the movie is here to remind her what a sensational and once-in-a-lifetime artist she was.

First of all, some impressions: we all know the music but just hearing it means we actually never saw what it looked like in church itself. What a spectacle! Church itself was surprisingly small place, nothing special actually and audience was not so large - in fact initially it all looked somehow underwhelming (kind of studio recording with a small audience included, technicians and electric wires all over the place) until the music starts. The Church choir walks in (very theatrically, in some kind of procession step) and than great lady herself - introduced by enthusiastic reverend James Cleveland and there is also a strikingly athletic choir director Alexander Hamilton who at the times seems ready to fly away with the music. We all know that Aretha sang like a dream but its a special privilege to see her live in a church which for her is a completely natural habitat - the moment when she starts to sing, with her eyes closed, the God is in the house and suddenly we forget the shabby surroundings, tin-foil costumes of the choir or silly hairstyles of the church ladies in the audience. The power of music was so strong and overwhelming that I could not sit still in my chair but was constantly jigging along and following the rhythm with my fingers, occasionally even tearing up and wondering why am I crying - after all, I have no connections with Baptist church, religion or that unflattering painting of white Jesus on the wall - somehow the music itself lifted everything above its surroundings and the final effect was sensational. At the end of the movie the audience wildly applauded and everybody was super excited & thrilled to witness such a wonderful posthumous gift from Franklin who herself would have been pleased. What strikes me as very interesting is that she was completely focused on music and very unlike diva we expected her to be - other singers (specially contemporary ones) would probably pose for the camera and avoid unflattering angles but Franklin was all business - she was here to record and all her attention was on piano, microphone and music itself. Caught in a moment, she sweated a lot and I wondered why no one brings her something to wipe it off, until her own father (famously handsome and charismatic minister C. L. Franklin) joins the audience and at one point gently wipes her face - the way Franklin looks at him is absolute admiration, she was clearly a daddy's girl. Gospel singer Clara Ward is also here, sitting next to him and her own mother, Gertrude - gospel star of earlier era - at one point gets so excited that she had to be restrained or else she would jump on the stage. Add to this the audience clearly enjoying the spectacle and joining into a wild church dance - its just a fantastic visual document that is absolutely not to be missed. 

"Live And More" by Donna Summer (1977)

Double LP live recording released when Donna Summer was at the peak of her career and if you ever wonder why Summer and not thousands of other artists, here is a proof: she was dazzlingly versatile, excellent singer, had tons of top-shelf material (largely written by herself), was not afraid to stretch artistically in various directions and was also lovely to look at. Considering that double LP albums were at the time considered compliments that recording industry used to bestow of biggest rock stars (see "Frampton Comes Alive! " or "Wings over America" for example) it was also indisputable evidence that much-maligned and criticised disco could not be ignored - Summer was selling these hits like there's no tomorrow and even cemented her fame in the movie screen. 

The concept of streamlined, continuous flow of songs weaving into each other was very typical of what Summer was doing at the time and majority of these hits were given glitzy treatment with some added oomph, they mostly appear slightly faster than original recordings. Its just mind-boggling how the playlist was made up by highlight after highlight, clearly this was someone extremely prolific and successful. Dazzled by her disco fame, most of the critics dismissed side B clearly designed as interval, where Summer pauses for a moment and goes Las Vegas with jazzy medley and few ballads - what majority saw as a flaw, I found welcome showcase for singer's versatility and point that she could sing anything no matter what genre (imagine if she did some songs from "Hair" where she originally started back in the 1960s). While the rest of the world focused on enormous phenomenon of "MacArthur Park" I thought that Gershwin/Ellington medley was phenomenal and actually very interesting step out of the box. 

Personally this album will always stay close to my heart, because it happened to be one of the first LPs I ever owned - when I bought it back in the day as a kid, I had no idea who Summer was and in fact could hardly distinguish her from Diana Ross (I was very young) but I listened it non stop, as you do when your whole music collection has only two titles. Re-visiting it again decades later, I am purring with pleasure for recognising every single note and applause, even though I am aware of its faults - it is still great fun and disco as a celebration of joy. Perhaps a bit more of variety would be more welcome but obviously disco was what audience wanted. Interesting note: Summer's sisters sang on backing vocals. 

Blast from the past: the street where I grew up

While browsing the web, I usually find tons of pictures where citizens of Zagreb affectionately praise the city and claim usual nonsense that is "prettiest city in the world" and "we could never live anywhere else". Now, I always take these bombastic statements with a pinch of salt, because I was simply born with a natural reserve when it comes to putting something above everything else - it all comes down to perspective, experience and subjectivity. Even as a kid in a primary school I refused to believe our sea is the prettiest/bluest/clearest which was the official line fed to us kids - surely people on the other side of the world think their sea is the best sea in the world. Same for Zagreb - it has interesting Gothic architecture and occasional pretty, forgotten corner (that somehow escaped commercialisation) but to proclaim it prettiest city in the world sounds a bit far-fetched - sorry folks, even though I was born in Zagreb, I have seen many other prettiest places and during my 15 years of work on cruise ships I have been all over the world. As a capitol it naturally towers above everything else in Croatia but if you are looking for the similar style of architecture & culture, Vienna and Prague are far more fascinating. 

The busiest pedestrian street is nowadays ultra-commercialised Tkalčićeva street which is now completely occupied by cafe bars, terraces and night life. It seems that people find it very romantic because it still preserves old houses from centuries ago - however, dear reader, I grew up there, in fact this is where I started walking. And believe me, there was nothing romantic about living in a shabby, creaking & derelict houses without proper bath and shared WC in a corridor. It would be wonderful if I could say yes, it was poor but full of heart - no, it was poor, dirty and full of prostitution, alcoholism and theft. Neighbours stole from each other and on one occasion someone even stole our WC seat. For the life of me I don't understand how can anybody romanticise about living here, when people lacked central heating and used wood for heat, everybody washed in basins and hardly anybody had even a washing machine. These photographs shows the street exactly the way I remember it - it was not pedestrian yet, there were some occasional cars parked, houses were falling apart and there was not a trace of future cafe terraces that eventually swallowed the whole area. Somehow I lived on three different addresses here so I know the street very well and was a witness when in the late 1980s cafe bars started to mushroom everywhere - I lived my solitary student life with windows closed to block the noise from outside, because drunkards were yelling deep into the night. I left the place as fast as I could once I got the opportunity and believe me, I never went back - even when I visit Zagreb, I stay away from this place because it brings back bad memories and find it very amusing that this - previously one of the dirtiest and poorest neighbourhoods - is now considered trendy and fun. Sorry but I lived there and find nothing romantic about it. And from the safe distance now, I can tell you that there are many, many cities far prettiest than Zagreb. To people who could "never live anywhere else" I suggest, go and travel, see the world. Places like picturesque Samobor and Varaždin are far prettier. 

"Ako Priđeš Bliže" by Zdravko Čolić (1977)

"Ako Priđeš Bliže" is quintessential Zdravko Čolić album and the one that really catapulted him to the status of superstar - if centuries from now, some aliens find one illustration of who Čolić was, this is the right example. The team behind it is very much the same one that created his previous debut "Ti i Ja" but by now everything fell in place and Kornelije Kovač masterminded all-hits, no-filler collection that genuinely sold truckloads in every corner of Yugoslavia - "Jugoton" knew the worth of 26 year old singer, because they cleverly added his poster in album cover and you can bet it graced countless walls at the time. Arsen Dedić, Kemal Monteno and even Bora Đorđević are amongst cooks and songs were uplifting, irresistible pop that ruled radio waves ever since - without a doubt this was singer's golden hour and the highlight of his career. Spectacular concert tour that followed is still remembered as first time we had real pop star filling stadiums, with backing dancers and all shebang - the documentary filmed during the tour is still fascinating and joy to watch for sheer enthusiasm and energy exploding from the stage. 

Some 40+ years after its release, I re-visited "Ako Priđeš Bliže" and was amused with the fact that I still know all the lyrics, even though I never actually had album back in the day - music was impossible to avoid because it played on the radio and TV non stop, to the point that it became soundtrack of an era. I mean, girls were cutting their wrists for Čolić and babies were named Zdravko all over the country - this was the first time we had genuine pop star beloved absolutely everywhere. It occurred to me that its interesting why exactly this guy and not someone else - after all, we had several other contenders with equally good voices (Boba Stefanović, Dalibor Brun, Zlatko Pejaković for example - they all started in rock bands and were more than capable to sing absolutely everything) but it seems it all boils down to material - because Čolić did not write his own songs, he depended on strong producer and was always good at following instructions - in a way, he was a producer's dream because he never pushed his own agenda or forced individuality (his singing is technically perfect but without a trace of distinctive idiosyncrasy) and perhaps this was the key of his music success, the fact that he was pleasant and easy to embrace by various generations. Some might say that his looks certainly didn't hurt album sales, but I disagree because music was so irresistible that survived decades and he still performs these songs today on sold-out concerts, long after his poster days. Best of all, this is pure pop and there is not a trace of unfortunate Balkan folk flirtations found in his later work. 

"Teško mi je zaboravit tebe" by Dušan Dančuo (1971)

The phenomenon of romantic gypsy music seems to be particularly beloved in Eastern Europe and tradition seems to go way back to times of Austrian-Hungarian empire when travelling musicians worked they way trough Vienna, Prague and Budapest - this type of music (often backed with violins and played to bleary-eyed audiences who cried in their beer) left its mark all over the place, including Croatia where "starogradska muzika" was somehow always perceived as more urban and distinct from traditional folk - nowadays we accept venerable Zvonko Bogdan as the king of this type of music, but long before Bogdan ever entered recording studio, there was already a towering figure of Dušan Dančuo who mellifluously crooned very much the same repertoire. Both men can be seen as continuation of old tradition that simply goes on under various disguises to this day.

Compared to Bogdan, Dančuo was technically superior singer - both men were gifted with seductive, soft voices but Dančuo was simply born with one of the most beautiful sounds and he used it very much like popular Italian singers of post WW2 generation (in fact, "Buongiorno Tristezza" was one of his earliest recordings from 1958.) Instead of going in that direction, like many of his contemporaries (Marko Novosel for example) Dančuo found his niche in music that combined Hungarian and Gypsy elements and was hugely popular all over Yugoslavia at the time. During 1960s he released three volumes of EPs titled "Popular romances" with songs of mostly Hungarian background - all of them are collected on this 1971. LP which serves as compilation and recapitulation of his work up to that point. At that time concept of LP abum was still new for "Jugoton" where they preferred playing safe and albums were mainly compilations of previously released singles. Dančuo will of course, continue for decades in very much same style, but today his work seems to have been little obscured which is a pity because he was really a great artist and important link between pre-WW2 tradition and later success of Bogdan and his followers. 

Armistead Maupin continued (but not for long)

So I continued with "More Tales of the City" and "Further Tales of the City" continuously wondering how is it possible that I had actually read these novels but completely forgot about them, and now suddenly I remember why I stop reading the saga. First two parts are focused on the same list of characters, all residents of colourful house on 28 Barbary Lane (Mary Ann, landlady Anna Madrigal, Mona, Brian, Michael, etc) and how they all intermingle and their lives re connected one way or the other - but as I started the third part, author suddenly decided to fast forward few years and now we are in the present time where everything is different, characters are re-arranged, paired differently and in fact focus is actually not on them at all but on some new (super irritating) characters. I was so confused that I even went on line wondering have I missed one novel somewhere in the middle - maybe there was another sequel that would explain how & why we came to this point? - no, Maupin simply decided to skip few years and now we are here, with familiar old characters being reduced to cameos and pushed in the background while story is about other people and some silly thriller plot. Needless to say, I am not enjoying this third part at all and having incredibly difficult time going trough it, seems like it takes me double amount of time to read this novel, where previous two just went so smoothly. Apparently there are six more sequels but to be honest at this point I am not so enthusiastic about it anymore and will definitely stop here. Just as I did the first time around. 

"Homo Volans" by Arsen Dedić (1973)

Ambitious and somewhat sprawling double LP album where 1960s romantic balladeer tries to spread his wings and try some different subjects - commendable decision and definitely artistic statement, but here is where Arsen Dedić evolved into cult artist and perhaps lost his commercial mass appeal. If during previous decade he was very much beloved, popular and even poster boy for certain generation of girls, now he moved away from romantic "boy/girl" songs and was obviously ready to explore other pastures. Even though "Homo Volans" have its share of romantic ballads, now he also sings about lonely life of quiet tenant, small gardens of suburban houses, nomadic life of musicians and to top it all, there is also a very witty & humorous ditty about relationship where food replaced the passion. 

The title "Homo Volans" is a nod to 17th century bishop from Šibenik (artist's birthplace) who is remembered as probable inventor of parachute (however, Leonardo da Vinci was there before him) - this already gives you some idea about Dedić's perspective and erudition which has almost nothing in common with the rest of popular mainstream entertainers who graced TV shows in the early 1970s. This brought a lot of adversity from large audiences who now found singer too serious for popular radio waves and from now on he will be supported by small but passionate following, where previous decade he enjoyed actual conventional appeal. Dedić will continue on, specially in demand as a songwriter for other artists, but his own discography will be an acquired taste. 

Personally, it took me some time and patience to warm up to "Homo Volans", probably because its cinematic atmosphere is a bit removed from singer's previous romantic repertoire and music recorded here often borders on atonal - creepy, disturbing strings and somber subjects are not exactly easy listening, while singer's declamatory style ("death, death, DEATH!") is not something you sing along. Brave experiment, but it might test listener's patience. 

"Dawn Upshaw Sings Rodgers & Hart" by Dawn Upshaw (1996)

At the time when "I Wish It So" was released, I lived in UK and clearly remember how much critics praised that album and lovely American soprano Dawn Upshaw who highlighted repertoire of Broadway composers. In fact, her concert in Royal Albert Hall might have been my very first visit to that place. (I was very young and didn't know anybody to go with me so I just went by myself and had a great time) It wasn't too long after that when she came up with a sequel, this time a songbook by Richard Rodgers and his lyricist Lorenz Hart. 

In some ways, it was perhaps even better than its predecessor (for one thing, her voice was not overwhelmed with huge orchestra) but it lacked the surprise effect from the first time around - now we knew that sparkling voice behind celebrated recordings by Donizetti, Mozart, Mahler and Debussy (not to mention unforgettable ""Symphony of Sorrowful Songs") was also capable of Broadway confectionery and my initial reaction was that this was quite predictable step. As much as I enjoyed the recording, I kind of hoped this will not become artistic cul-de-sac where performer gets pigeonholed in a particular box - soprano singing popular songs - Upshaw herself must have been aware of this because she quickly moved on to other things and finished the trilogy with album tribute to Vernon Duke. 

"Dawn Upshaw Sings Rodgers & Hart" is nevertheless a very enjoyable experience - how can it be different with a songs beloved as "Manhattan", "Sing For Your Supper" and "Ev'ry Sunday Afternoon" where that silvery voice parts the clouds. This time around orchestration is less intrusive and at one point Upshaw is even joined by special guest Audra McDonald whose voice sounds extremely similar to hers, its almost as singer is duetting with herself. Its very uplifting collection, done with utmost style and care, I dare listener not to hum along. 

Concert: Yola in Paradiso Club, Amsterdam 28.08.2019

On a lighter note, I wanted to mention here a concert that I recently enjoyed, birthday gift from an old friend who was very thoughtful and correctly guessed this is something that might appeal to me. Yola (real name Yolanda Quartey) is up-and-coming British soul singer who has recently released her very first solo album "Walk Through Fire" and a hit single, glorious "Faraway Look" immediately caught my attention so off we went to "Paradiso" club here in Amsterdam - my very first time there, since apparently I was always visiting other music temples like Koncertgebouw, National Opera House and famous Royal Theater Carré, practically everything but pop-oriented Paradiso and I was pleasantly surprised with its nice atmosphere, acoustics and enthusiastic, unpretentious audience. 

Yola is absolutely charming girl - right now she is still at the crossroads, not really a huge superstar so this small, intimate club performance was just perfect to present who she is and what her music identity is. The album, recorded in Nashville, is appealing mix of soul with country influences and audience lapped it up, it looks like locals really love outsized personalities - Yola is definitely one, since she is unabashedly, unrepentantly extrovert girl with playful streak, clearly enjoying the attention and adoration of the public so clearly showering her with affection. This might be the first time that I went to a concert of someone I am not really familiar with - after all we knew just one hit single and "Faraway Look"  is actually not really representative of who she is musically - but we both enjoyed the evening immensely, mostly because Yola herself was so happy with response she got from the audience. Her music is a robust combination of soul and country, with endearing chatter between the songs (she seems like a genuine person, kind of friend who just happened to be on a stage under the spotlight) and backing musicians were also very, very good. In fact, this might be the very first time I have seen pedal steel guitar in real life - it has a very recognisable sound and its interesting that the instrument was initially connected with Hawaiian music before it became trademark of American country music. 

The energy really build up towards the very end where Yola performed several songs as encore - not her own, but her favourites: its impossible not to love singer who sings "Big Yellow Taxi" and Spanish Harlem" out of sheer joy and love for music. We left Paradiso drenched in sweat and excited, it was excellent evening and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

The Big Five-O

So I turned 50 years yesterday and now I am officially middle aged.

To my biggest surprise, I don't really feel it - except occasionally in the morning or if I am sitting too long at computer - in fact, perhaps I am in a better place mentally, spiritually and physically than a decade ago. I have managed to turn my dream into reality and re-located to another country where I wanted to be, building my new life from a scratch, at the age where most of my friends back home think about retirement. The strength, the energy, the intensity is still here + I am healthy so not much difference from before, except that maturity has given me slightly different perspective and I don't really crave company as I used to do when I was younger. It also could be that all those years of working on cruise ships and having to deal with lack of privacy made me into solitary person who loves his own space above anything else but maybe this is just natural process common to everybody. 

I got a wonderful surprise present - famous Viennese cake delivered to my doorstep directly from Vienna with a lovely note + few other things. I have spent the day exactly the way I wanted - without big fuss, initially I wanted simply to treat myself with a lunch in a restaurant and to celebrate it quietly, than changed my mind and ended up drinking with a good friend until we were both pleasantly tipsy - but what surprised me the most was complete lack of attention from my numerous virtual friends on Facebook - for many years I was always very careful to send a message to each and every person on the day of their Birthdays, no matter how casual our acquaintance might be, but now on this very special day when I turned 50, I got a message from exactly two and a half people. Hm. That was a bit cold shower and it made me re-think the whole subject of virtual world, virtual friendships and the enormous time I spent on the Internet for what? For exchanging silly jokes, pictures and spiritual messages that basically mean nothing. Perhaps its good that I had this realisation so from now I won't have expectations that these things are serious or meaningful, since they are not. Obviously nothing can replace the real world and this is all that matters. 

Here's to another 50. 

"Once Upon a Time in Hollywood" by Quentin Tarantino (2019)

I still remember the thrill of watching my very first Quentin Tarantino movie, fantastic "Pulp Fiction" many years ago - it was a explosion of adrenaline, a work of over-excited movie geek and I loved every second of it (& played its soundtrack on the radio where I had worked as DJ). However, his subsequent work failed to excite me - very quickly I got tired of cartoonish violence and one dimensional characters and I just didn't find all this brutality entertaining. In fact, I even skipped completely his 2015. movie "The Hateful Eight" because I wasn't in the mood for more blood spurting all over the big screen. Apparently, everything I loved two decades ago about "Pulp Fiction" somehow became predictable and perhaps I am not the same person anyway. So this time I approached latest Tarantino movie with some caution.

"Once Upon a Time in Hollywood" might be my second-favourite Tarantino movie ever. 

It was overlong - three meandering hours, with occasional flash of genius and very,very gripping finale - but still way too long for me to genuinely enjoy without glancing at the watch. But I found myself talking about it and discussing it long after I have seen it so I guess it did left an impression after all. This time Tarantino focused on late 1960s when hippie movement, piece & love era was suddenly destroyed when drugged followers of cult leader Charles Manson massacred actress Sharon Tate and all her guest in the house at Cielo Drive. From that moment, people didn't leave the doors open and fear moved to Los Angeles - Tarantino has Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt next door to the place where murders happened and in his re-imagining of the story, they are the ones dealing with Manson Family. Without spoiling the ending, I must say that it all ends in a typical Tarantino bloodbath but not in a way we expected (or what actually happened). In fact, some teenagers sitting in a cinema next to me were giggling all the way trough, not knowing or understanding that Tarantino describes something that actually happened in real life - they were too young to actually remember Sharon Tate. 

The movie has a cast of thousands, with a feeling that Tarantino included every acquaintance, neighbour and a friend he ever met - critics praise came by Al Pacino but I don't see why this particular actor instead of any other. On the other hand, some new faces were excellent, like child actress Julia Butters, intense Margaret Qualley as dangerous hitchhiker or Dakota Fanning as her lethal red-haired Manson family buddy. Scenes at Spahn Ranch where drugged hippies set their commune on a land of blind owner were genuinely spooky and menacing - here Tarantino approached level of danger not unlike his famous predecessor Alfred Hitchcock. In fact, this is the first time I could tell Tarantino is not a young, nerdy geek he used to be - this time he worked very carefully on pacing and characterisation, reaching certain level of maturity that is interesting to note. Initially I thought it was flawed masterpiece but now I think it might not be flawed at all. 

"Tales of the City" by Armistead Maupin (1978)

After surprisingly dry and technical previous book by otherwise favourite Graham Hancock, the time has come to break away from science, cosmos, ancient civilisations and aliens - now I needed good, old fashioned story where each chapter leads to another, where pages are turning by themselves. Before I turned on to my virtual library that by now has more than 1 700 titles (and the whole process of browsing already becomes tedious), I have mentioned "Tales of the City" to a good friend who just pulled it off from his bookshelf so I ended up with a real, physical book as opposed to something digital and immediately discovered how inconvenient it is to lie in a bed nibbling on snacks with a book in my hand (computer kind of makes it easier). Balancing the book, chocolate and earphones, trying not to leave choco fingerprints everywhere, it was a bit difficult and I never imagined that I would come to point where I am so used to digital books that holding the real thing in my hands will be a problem. 

The most interesting thing is - I have actually read "Tales of the City" many years ago but I don't remember a thing, except the title. Which brings me to conclusion that basically all I remember from the books I have read during my lifetime are impressions - "good, bad, exciting, boring, trash, guilty pleasure, etc" - but for the life of me I genuinely don't really remember the books themselves, their characters and plots. The explanation for this might be everything - from the sheer immensity of the titles I have read to the fact that our brain perhaps stores new information's and erase the old ones (or I simply have Alzheimer) - but its a bit alarming that I am aware just of the titles and the general feeling, instead of actual stories. I can look at the books in my collection and recognising that yes, I have read them all, but if I start reading them again, it is very possible that now they would affect me differently, because I am not the same person who read them years ago. And this is why re-visiting some old favourites is such an interesting experience. 

"Tales of the City" was initially published as a feuilleton, serial supplement attached to San Francisco Chronicle - in itself, this is a wonderful continuation of literary tradition where authors like Charles Dickens, Eugène Sue or Alexandre Dumas were thrilling the audiences each week with new chapters and these series were so massively popular that people on the streets discussed and talked about adventures of little Nell, Rodolphe and The Count of Monte Cristo. All of these, now famously classics had a humble beginnings as magazine serials, just like "Tales of the City" and they all had one thing in common - specific, story focused plots that avoided any excessive descriptions and are simply storytelling with exciting cliffhanger endings that motivate readers to continue reading the next chapter. (Nowadays we see cliffhangers in TV soap operas) I should also mention other honourable magazine serials like Sherlock Holmes, The Moonstone and Uncle Tom's Cabin. In my own Croatia we had immensely popular magazine serial "Grička vještica" ("The Witch from Grič") that dealt with dark days of the witch-hunts in Central Europe and this was definitely one of the guilty pleasures of my childhood, probably one of the main reasons why I eventually became a book lover. So simply because of its style of writing, "Tales of the City" is from the start immensely readable and impossible to put down ("unputdownable" is a perfect description). 

I have just started yesterday and already gulped half of the book - where with Graham Hancock I had to be patient, focus on his meandering about measurements and calculations, how the the top of this megalith aligns with the solstice and constant repeating of the same ideas from chapter to chapter, here the pages were turning by themselves. Not unlike some delicious soap opera, "Tales of the City" weaves exciting story about citizens of 1970s San Francisco and how, one way or the other, their lives are all connected - I am taking the book with me to work today and no doubt I will finish it until end of the day.

"Ciganska Noć" by Nada Knežević (1961)

Serbian singer Nada Knežević enjoyed great reputation as the most prominent female Jazz singer in post-WW2 Yugoslavia and I even remember my parents praising her as one of the best vocalists around. Unfortunately, local Jazz scene had fairly limited appeal and majority of musicians often switched gears and ventured in pop music - perfect example is backing vocal group, excellent Vokalni Ansambl Predraga Ivanovića utilised here as anonymous studio quartet. 

For a while in the early 1960s, Serbian PGP RTB was actually leading recording company (along with Jugoton based in Zagreb) and they have released some truly magnificent pop albums, this one being one of them - impeccably produced and arranged, they are all without exception fascinating glimpse in a than current pop scene where locals tried their best to emulate high standards of international production. Foreigners might consider this exotic world "behind Iron Curtain" but artists were generally inspired and no less talented compared to their international counterparts - if not for geographical accident, its easy to imagine someone like Knežević performing on the stage of than very popular San Remo. 

The only problem I have with this album is that is very tame - probably reflection of the times, when all these singers were taught to be extremely undistinguishable from each other and as festival compilations can attest, strict juries that controlled who can appear on radio/TV/festivals guarded and restricted any individuality. God forbid that anybody sticked out too much from the mainstream, that was not allowed. So the whole generation of pop pioneers sounded as cloned cookie cutters, bland and non-threatening. It took one more decade until in the 1970s artists were allowed to be idiosyncratic and particular. 

Sadly, there is no trace of Jazz here - Knežević enraptured her concert audiences with capable renditions of songs by Ella or Sarah, but in recording studio her output was limited to lightweight pop music that harked back at previous decade. Judging by this album, the only genuine album she have ever released (not counting two compilations), lady was a capable pop singer with a nice, chirpy and crooning voice but ditties like "Davy Crocket" or covers of Italian, French and American hits don't really point at particular connection to Jazz. My guess is that she thrived on live concerts but was sadly underused in recording studios. 

"America Before: The Key to Earth's Lost Civilisation" by Graham Hancock

Omnivorous reader that I am, after Carl Sagan I have switched to something else completely, namely my old favourite Graham Hancock whom I followed and recommended to everybody for many years now. Hancock is very enthusiastic researcher, mainly focused on ancient civilisations and so far his books were usually completely ignored by scientists but very popular with masses curious about another possibilities and theories - his best seller was "Fingerprints of the Gods: The Evidence of Earth's Lost Civilisation " which I bought back in the 1990s and still love, however my favourite must be "Supernatural: Meetings with the Ancient Teachers of Mankind" for the sheer madness and scope of various ideas connected into one book. Hancock had a serious health scare recently so I'm glad that he has recovered and now there is a new book about possibility of ancient civilisations in Americas, long before Europeans ever knew about the place.

The premise is very interesting - contrary to formally accepted theory that Homo Sapiens roamed every continent but not Americas (where people came eventually via Bering strait while it was frozen) new archaeological evidence suggests that people indeed lived in a "New World" for thousands of years and traces of DNA & all sorts of interesting things point that perhaps there was a really ancient society there that has nothing to do with newcomers from the North. So far, so good - but than, to my biggest surprise Hancock really gets into all sorts of technical details and the book becomes so darn complicated and dry that I eventually found myself skipping the whole chapters. Instead following the narrative, page after page Hancock goes for calculations and measurements which for the first time struck me as unnecessary - instead of pointing an angry finger at academic society that shuns authors like himself, he could have simply focus on the story. Alas, seems like he has a very old grudge to bear and feel the need to prove he was right all along - now, to us, his readers, this is like preaching to the choir. We read him, because we love his ideas. But being angry at this or that scientist, page after page, chapter after chapter pointing how wrong and deluded they were, well its simply starts to become repetitive. So with deep regret, I am now (for the first time) reading Graham Hancock book simply because I want to finish what I started but not with excitement or pleasure, like before. I still love Hancock and I believe he is probably too emotional to distance himself from a objective, clear-eyed scientists who accept only proofs instead of theories - the world needs Don Quixotes like him. Strangely, I found this book my least favourite from all of his work, because of above mentioned. 

"Elisabeth Schwarzkopf Sings Operetta" by Elisabeth Schwarzkopf (1959)

On completely opposite side of the spectrum from her celebrated recordings of "Four Last Songs", these bubbly, sparkling bonbons culled from various Viennese operettas present magnificent versatility of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf who could apparently sing everything, from the darkest despair of "A German Requiem" to staggeringly melancholic songs by Richard Strauss or these pretty, fluffy confectionery. Do not forget that her singing teacher was celebrated 1920s star Maria Ivogün who herself recorded many popular waltzes and her lessons in poise and sophistication stayed with Schwarzkopf for the rest of her life - impeccably prepared and serious, she would bring the utmost commitment to everything she approached. 

The apparently omnipotent, silvery voice was capable of everything, in this case of sparkling in dazzlingly melodious hits from bygone era - handpicked from various operettas and different composers, this record almost sounds like "the best of" operetta genre. In fact, its so close to perfection that I must admit that to my ears, every other female singer approaching this material always pales when compared to this recording. Franz Lehár and Johann Strauss Jr. are just some of composers represented here, lovingly orchestrated and arranged by conductor Otto Ackermann and Schwarzkopf is in top form. This is one of the very few albums by Schwarzkopf that are constantly in the print and deservedly so. 

"Ljiljana Petrović" (1962)

Holy Grail for Eurovision fans and collectors, this little 8-songs EP recording must be one of the rarest and most precious albums connected with famous festival - it was the very first time Yugoslavia ever joined as participant on this highly publicised music spectacle, the song climbed to respectable eight place and strangest of all, when Belgrade's PGP RTB ‎finally got around to release the album (next year!) they were so new at it that they never even advertised it as Eurovision song, which became standard procedure everywhere else around the Europe, where sticker with "Eurovision!" would help the sales.

Young and practically unknown Ljiljana Petrović (not to be confused with Gypsy singer with the same name) was practically pulled out of obscurity by famous composer and arranger Jože Privšek who have heard her voice by chance, when girl was recording her very first studio track and he insisted this is the voice he needs for upcoming Eurovision festival (he was composing the song). Eventually that particular song was chosen during the national pre-selection and young Petrović was packed off to Cannes where her youth and decidedly unglamorous, simple appearance were sensation amongst media - she was the first ever participant coming from Eastern Europe which at that time was still known as "behind Iron Curtain". To be honest, "Neke davne zvezde" sounds very much like any other standard ballad of the time and the whole hoopla was simply because TV audiences were pleasantly surprised with novelty of such exotic participant. But it served to break the ice and the very next year, much more experienced Lola Novaković placed fourth.

Even though this was a historical break into Eurovision and the very first time some artists from Yugoslavia had such huge multi-millioned audience, neither Petrović or Novaković actually got much support at home, very probably because local homegrown recording companies were still unaware what Eurovision actually means for record sales. Where song by Novaković was never even released as a single, young Petrović at least got her own album, because of famous composer prominence - the resulting album (released very much after the fact, next year) was a pretty combination of current international pop hits and original material, arranged and produced by Privšek who wrapped everything in the highly polished, sophisticated cellophane. 

"The Demon-Haunted World" by Carl Sagan

The previous book I have read ("Hunt for the Skinwalker") was initially interesting but it somehow petered away in a second half and it became just another guesswork about Alien visit, much ado about nothing - theories piled up on top of theories without a concrete proof or even conclusion. However, someone on Goodreads have mentioned this book as a suggestion of completely different approach to the same subject so I decided to check it out - I am glad that I did, because I enjoyed it very much.

Carl Sagan was of course, one of the most famous scientists in the world, thanks to his work for NASA and TV show "Cosmos" - his work has always intrigued me but for some reason I postponed it, probably thinking it would be "too complicated" and one of those things I have to read "when I grow up". Well, I'm almost 50 now so I might as well check it out (I said to myself) because after all, if not now, than when? To my surprise it was very approachable, without pandering to the audience - Sagan has a gift to explain everything in a relatively simple way, without sounding like he is deliberately dumbing down, in fact it was very interesting. His position is that superstition has no place in a modern world and science works very hard to find all the answers, although we still have a far to go but at least we are trying. Initially my impression was that guy was poking fun at human ignorance and superstition, I thought he was kind of snotty - until I checked some of his interviews on youtube where he really appeared as one of the brightest guys I have ever encountered, very knowledgeable, informed and even witty, real gentleman. I was so impressed that I gulped the rest of the book with a greatest pleasure, since I changed my mind about him completely - I am absolutely sure that if he was my teacher in the school, he would probably inspire everybody to be scientists. Kind of person who is passionate about his work, about new ideas and even open to the strange ones - he claims (for example) that science always needs to be open to new ideas because this is the only way we can progress. 

"If you're only sceptical, then no new ideas make it through to you. You never learn anything. You become a crochety misanthrope convinced that nonsense is ruling the world. (There is, of course, much data to support you.) Since major discoveries in the borderlines of science are rare, experience will tend to confirm your grumpiness. But every now and then a new idea turns out to be on the mark, valid and wonderful."

I can't put in words how much I have enjoyed this book and it gave me a lots of pleasure to ponder the ideas that Sagan mentioned here, of course I have also watched "Cosmos" immediately because it was natural to enjoy some more of his work. Carl Sagan was a true renaissance man, clever and bright, full of enthusiasm and understanding why things are the way they are. He even understood why in the current society scientists are not highly regarded as (for example) sportsmen, since kids are embarrassed to be perceived as geeks and nerds if they are too "bookish" which is a great pity. No one cares or support the teachers anymore and its not noble profession anymore, as being celebrity is much more important. No wonder we have all these shamans and astrologers today, with ignorance covering the world. 

"Dinah Sings Bessie Smith" by Dinah Washington (1958)

It sounds completely natural - one queen celebrating another, from earlier era - and honestly, when it comes to sass and attitude Dinah Washington followed steps of her illustrious predecessor. In some parallel universe it would be great to have them both at the same table and my guess is they would get along like a house on fire. Both were strong-willed, independent women who lived high life, financed lovers and husbands, bulldozed their way trough male dominated industry and burned like comets too early. It doesn't matter that as a singers they were completely different - both were strikingly original in their way and I doubt that even famously competitive Smith would find her younger successor unworthy of praise. 

By late 1950s Washington experimented with different genres and recorded two tribute albums, one to Fats Waller and another with Bessie Smith songbook. Both were arranged by Ernie Wilkins who was fine musician himself (after all, he worked with Count Basie) but unfortunately he decided to give them a certain almost Dixieland sheen that inevitably made the projects sound outdated - Washington herself sounds like a dream and its clear she loves these old songs but somehow (to my ears, at least) it appears almost ironic. There is something about arrangements that always bothered me and after all these years I am still not convinced that this music needed vaudeville costume - only occasionally, as on spectacular "Backwater Blues" Wilkins let singer rip completely, uncluttered by rinky dink snare drums. Great for collectors but undermined by arrangements. And my opinion has not changed in some twenty years that I own this album. 

"Sings The Best In Blues" by Dinah Washington (1958)

Excellent late 1950s compilation, released just as "The Queen" started to seriously branch in completely different waters, this LP served to remind listeners that before Washington dived in the sea of strings and echoing backing choruses, she was the sassiest, brashest and cheekiest of all gals around. No wonder she was called "queen of jukebox" because hit followed the hit and what you find here is really cream of her earliest work - how strange that her later international pop success eclipsed what is in reality by far her best period. 

Collected here are her singles from 1940s and early 1950s before she turned to LP albums filled with American Songbook and such - nothing bad about those albums, but in my opinion her heart and personality is perfectly described here. Washington, of course could do absolutely everything - torch songs, ballads, country, pop, Bessie Smith blues, you name it, she would put her stamp on it. Initially I was so blinded with her later music that these earliest singles didn't register with me, but than something interesting happened - with time I realised that syrupy ballads can't hold the candle to fierce "Evil Gal Blues", "Baby, Get Lost" or "Salty Papa Blues" - now this is THE album I listen the most when it comes to Dinah Washington. And of course, "Long John Blues" is a dirty joy to behold, something that young Aretha Franklin never dared to cover on her tribute to Washington. 

"Three Identical Strangers" by Tim Wardle (2018)

Well, this was actually excellent - had my eye on this documentary for a while and it turned out even better than I expected. It was a real-life story about three twin brothers, separated at birth and given to adoption as babies, who discovered each other later in life (at the college, at the age of nineteen) and how their lives changed with time. The main question here is the difference between nature and nurture, in fact this was the reason why they were separated in the first place - someone at adoption agency had idea that perhaps these three babies should be given to completely different sets of parents so the scientists could from time to time check on them to see how are they doing and will the completely different household create them in into different people or would they basically stay the same. Perhaps not surprisingly, it turned out that the least wealthy family provided the most affections - maddeningly, adoption agency never let anybody know that babies have brothers so both parents and children were completely unaware about twins living somewhere. Mothers did remember that boys showed great stress and unhappiness in the start, but never understood why - it became clear much later that little babies obviously grieved for their siblings. Its actually very cruel and sound sinister to use unfortunate orphan babies for scientific experiments, but at least first part of the movie, where grown up boys meet completely by chance is very uplifting - and than it turns much darker, but I don't want to spoil anything here. 

The best is to watch this movie without knowing too much about it, as I did. I was only vaguely familiar with the fact that there were three identical brothers who met by chance, but nothing else. So both me and friend went trough real emotional roller coaster, enjoying their happiness and saddened how life eventually had its own way of connecting the dots and unearthing old scars. It really all comes down to childhood, in this particular case nurture and how parents forever scarred the children - yes, boys were wonderful and genuinely similar but they were also raised by different parents and this determined who will they eventually became later in life. The subject is of course, very close to my heart as mine was very similar story and I also have siblings fostered elsewhere, but we were not twins and never became very close, in fact at very early stage I consciously distanced myself from them as the gap between our upbringing was just too big and we were never able to re-connect properly. To this day we are strangers and I made up my mind that its better this way instead of forcing something that was not there from the start. 

"Riječi Čarobne" by Massimo Savić (1988)

Second in a trilogy of polished pop albums Massimo Savić recorded with composer and producer Zrinko Tutić. In later years, Savić metamorphosed and moved on, so chances are he probably don't like to be reminded on material here but actually its great fun and truth to be told, I play some of these lightweight songs ("Moja Ljubica", "La Lu La Le") rather than what came later. Unlikely collaboration between the singer who came from completely different, new-wave background and producer famous for his blockbuster radio hits is not really as bad as it sounds - for all his commercial ambitions, Tutić seems to genuinely enjoy working with somebody gifted as this young singer and he surrounds him with all than-current studio wizardry available at the time. Expanding a music formula a bit from their debut, guys add some more flavours to the mix so this time we get country duet with Bebi Dol, "Malagueña Salerosa" and obligatory cover of old Italian chestnut "Una Lacrima Sul Viso" with Croatian lyrics - covers were always Massimo's forte and no wonder later he will turn to all-cover albums.

This guy's voice was always sensational from the start - he might not have been obvious pop idol, but in capable hands of star-making Tutić this is closest he came to be actually accepted by mainstream and these songs were played on the radio a lot. So in a way, Tutić helped him a lot to stay visible on the market after disastrous demise of his earlier band and from here he will go on to stay relevant for decades. Personally I didn't care much for other artists this producer was working but his albums with Massimo are still enjoyable and they are produced with knowledge, understanding and just a bit of calculation what might be appealing to wide audiences. For example, "Pusti Me Da Spavam" (one of less played songs here) is a perfect pop-soul example of Massimo doing what he does best, basically he is a first-rate blue-eyed soul singer. Backing vocals of Bebi Dol are excellent and its a pity they didn't collaborate some more because they seem to have been kindred spirits and their voices work very well together - judging from the results here, they could have been our first couple of pop, both gifted with very idiosyncratic, recognisable sounds and strong artistic vision. 

"Hunt for the Skinwalker" (Colm A. Kelleher, George Knapp)

Collaboration between journalist George Knapp and biochemist Colm Kelleher, this book falls into category of "popular science" or perhaps even better "UFO phenomenon" which of course appeals big deal to me - I never get tired reading about Aliens  + I have never heard of Skinwalker Ranch where all sorts of freaky things happened and apparently there is even a movie made about it. The story starts with a bang, since Knapp knows how to thrill the readers and he is very enthusiastic storyteller - its kind of similar to all the stories about new family moving innocently into a house possessed with Poltergeist, except that in this case family moves into a isolated farm where they get harassed by Alien creatures. So far, so good - the beginning is actually genuinely frightening and gripping, unfortunately when we move into next chapters ("The Investigation Begins" and "Aftermath and Hypothesis") it all somehow fizzles away, because even with his best intentions Knapp can't come up with anything concrete - he repeats and repeats ancient ghost stories about strange creatures from various sources but it all sounds like old wive's tales without one single thing we can pinpoint or prove. So the book ultimately loses its initial momentum and eventually becomes just another frustrating saga without any particular explanation or a proof - theories pile on top of other theories, leaving the reader confused with so many possible variations of Bigfoot and such. It does sound very exciting but it really just vanishes in the thin air like Aliens and their strange lights. Personally I find similar books by Graham Hancock far more satisfying, because he keeps the excitement flowing and at least have some explanations for his stories. 

Farewell Maja Perfiljeva

Poets always live quietly at the edge of society and eclipsed by far more prominent "celebrities" who enjoy the spotlight - but if they touch your heart, it is forever. Lovely, late Maja Perfiljeva was lucky in a sense that her most famous songs were set to music so they became well-loved pop hits, though if you ever met her, you understand she was not really a businesswoman - she was one true poetess I have ever met, wonderfully sweet, almost absent-minded, dreamy person who lived in her own world and of course painted on a silk. 

By default, Perfiljeva entered pop waters via her than-husband Hrvoje Hegedušić who composed songs for the popular music festivals and she was the lyricist: many of them were fantastic, beloved songs and for a while the husband and wife team was unbeatable, real music factory, not unlike Carole King and Gerry Goffin - her lyrics were always special, completely different level from usual jingle stuff one could hear on the pop records, if you listen carefully her songs are timeless and still sound fresh as when she first wrote them.

Back in my student days, when I lived trough a brief but unforgettable chapter of enthusiastic journalism, I visited Hegedušić and his second wife, singer Ksenija Erker - lovely people, both of them, after a nice interview and perfectly relaxed conversation about their music, the name of Perfiljeva somehow popped in my head (probably because they wrote the songs together) and being too young to know the details, I naively asked do they have her phone number so I could contact her for possible interview. I must have been 21 or so, had no idea that I am talking about "first wife" - it was a embarrassing moment ("You don't know that she was Hrvoje's wife?") but they saw that I was honest and way too young to know about old gossip. Eventually I found my way to visit Perfiljeva who was everything I imagine poets to be - dreamy, sweet, lovely, very soft-spoken and actually strikingly attractive lady with exotic features (her father was Russian emigrant) - she lived alone, surrounded with her paintings and hats, laughed at my innocent blunder and commented "Ksenija is great" without any trace of bitterness. I imagined her life was not being easy - she made living as a teacher - but everything about her was tender and soft, really unforgettable person and trough many years ever since I always remember her as unique spiritual soul. I just found out that she quietly passed away few days ago and I am deeply saddened about this, because world would be such a completely different place if we have more people like her.