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Category: ostalo

The Changing Image

It’s been three months since that dreadful night and this is the first time I’m telling the full story to anyone. You might think I’m crazy or just a bad person, either way – that decision is entirely up to you. I was reluctantly getting ready to go out, telling myself how there was at least a dozen things I’d rather be doing. In all fairness that was a lie. I’d rather be doing what I had been doing for the past few weeks – drinking and crying on my sofa. – It’s ok to be sad for a while…

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Who, Who Are You?

Last night I talked to a friend who is on a job hunt. A lot of his self image comes from being an engineer and being between jobs made him feel like he lost that particular part of himself. It made me think – why do we identify so much of who we are based on the job we’re doing? I ran a little experiment; I browsed a bunch of profiles of people I’m following on Twitter, reading their bio. Unsurprisingly, for most of them the bio usually starts with “position X @ company Z”. More often than not, it…

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Immigrant Song

I used to wonder what it would be like, living abroad for 5 years. Would I forget my language? Would I lose my friends? Would I even last that long? Now I know what it feels like. It feels weird. It feels weird not to be able to drive to my parent’s house and get a hug from my mum. It feels weird having to make a well optimized algorithm just to have a cup of coffee in the sun. It feels weird not going ice-skating in the winter. Or having a proper winter for that matter. It feels weird…

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Trust Me On the Sunscreen

Past few months have been a havoc in my life. Things were spiralling out of my control and the more I tried to stop them, the worse they were getting. I was beating myself over it, until I realized that sometimes you just have to sit tight and let the storm pass. Looking back at those few months, I’ve learned a few valuable lessons. 1. Don’t live to make your presence noticed; live to make your absence felt A few weeks ago my grandmother died. One of the saddest moments of my life was standing there by the grave as…

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The Storm

The air is hot and humid. Its weight is pressuring on her skin, making it almost¬†too hard to breathe. She should get going or she’ll be late. Slowly, she drags herself to the car. The radio is playing Slave to Love.¬† The streets are almost deserted, as the city quiets down during summertime. The drive seems shorter than usual. She leaves the car in the nearby parking spot. As she is entering the park, she greets the ice-cream seller. Standing there in his truck, he’s been guarding the park entrance for years. “The usual?”, he asks. He hands her two…

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