A Story about Siniša
A Story about Siniša

Summary/Abstract: That summer we got a parrot, the last summer when we were still kids, and a beautiful brass birdcage, which we would cover with a black cloth at night. I learned how to cross the main road, and as the days grew longer, I would go alone to my ballet lessons. If I ever did anything in my life with so much pride and selfconfidence, it was the step of getting my feet together, look to the left, look to the right and a dignified crossing of the street. At its other end, on my way to the City Theatre, the movement already acknowledged the existence of size 10 ballet shoes in a canvas bag.

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