Knjiga moga oca
This is a biography about my father made up of memories and mere imagination. History does not exist, and neither do facts. The past is unknown.
My father died at the age of forty-nine when I was only five. My father's life has been nothing but a memory ever since. His untimely departure has left a void in my life. I have always felt that there was a space inside me, a building that was meant for someone or something, but it was empty. It was like having a house where no one lives. I was never able to describe that house, its appearance, its purpose. A long time later, when I had already become an adult, I learned that my father had been a victim of a disease called Hodgkin's disease, and I began to build an unfinished house inside me to house people. It is a sin to see an abandoned and ruined house. At first, I did not know how I could build it. Perhaps I did not believe that I was capable or that I was not yet mature enough to write.
One copy is available
