Zgodba o epilesiji - Epileptic Brain Poem

At the rift of memories First confrontation with the illness – the game ends With year, memories become clumsy, but what stays in the physical feeling of the taste of Milka chocolate, quenching of thirst with Ora and playing “mini basketball”. Lowered baskets, children laughing, torn sneakers, monumental pride of striking three points, worshiping Aco – Trica and a female coach, for which we gladly rubbed our knees until they bled. Šola košarke - Slivnica Sunny spring Sunday. Basketball tournament of mini baskets and great expectations. Flags, new sports uniforms, hundreds of young hands and a whistle at time-out. Bowed heads on the bench, we take in the harsh words of a young female coach. The pole with the Yugoslav flag falls. My knees touch the harsh surface of concrete floor. My hands on my face, blood running through fingers.  With the ball I enter the darkness … the game ends. Torn and stitched scalp, mesh, this time on the skull, RTG does now show injuries

Prva konfrontacija z boleznijo – Igra se konča Z leti spomini postajajo okorni, ostaja pa fizično čutenje okusa po čokoladi Milki, potešitev žeje z Oro in igranje »mini košarke«. Znižani koši, otroški smeh, raztrgani »teniski«, monumentalni ponos ob zadetku trojke, oboževanje Aca – Trice in trenerka, za katero smo z veseljem do krvi drgnile kolena.  Šola košarke - Slivnica Sončna pomladna sobota. Košarkarski turnir mini mrežic in velikih želja. Zastave, novi dresi, na stotine mladih rok in žvižg ob »time outu«. Sklonjenih glav na klopi vsrkavamo ostre besede mlade trenerke. Drog jugoslovanske zastave pade. Moja kolena se dotaknejo ostre podlage asfaltnih tal. Roke na obrazu, med prsti polzi kri. Z žogo stopim v temo... Igra se konča. Raztrgan in pokrpan skalp, mrežica, tokrat na lobanji, RTG ne pokaže poškodb med očmi. Grobo opravičilo organizatorja. Življenje se pobota s trobojnico, ljubezen do žoge je globlja. Druga konfrontacija z boleznijo - Valeta Ba