Ireland supposed to be nice,

and this is a special treat for my English-speaking readers. It is hard to translate my Slovenian sentences, so the future translator will be a bit pissed. Google Translate does not give a fuck, beacuse he is a thing made out of algorithms. Anyway, I cannot judge my style, but it includes a lot of short sentences who act like something I don’t know how to describe. Like this. And I include a lot of people. For example my classmate H. -What is with your washing machine? You read my blog? -Yes. But the Google Translate is bad, I tried it once, it was funny. -I tried it in Turkish, it did not work at all.

Of course it did not.

These are the major boundaries of our planet. We cannot read the originals. I think my classmate L was actually present when God decided to fuck up the Tower of Babylon. He can say something in every language. And there is my friend, poet G, who once told me that Slovenian translations of Bukowski really suck. And then I did not read the original, because I often don’t find motivation to read.

And then there is a german guy, let’s call him A, who got injured in his own bed doing what only married people do. And then there is always a dilemma when I write in Slovenian - should I use the word friend or colleague. Because I am complicated. And then I give life to things - did it for a washing machine, pants and today I did an umbrella. I feel like a God. Joke.