
Quite personally
The dust of the mouse eraOn the night in which I am writing these lines, the one from the first Thursday to Friday in March, I am left without the address from the title. Midnight has already struck, no one has been on the third or fourth floor of Mišarska 12-14 for a long time, only the night porter is dozing downstairs and wondering when the hairy madman will go to rest. And I'm still here because these lines can and must be created only there, in the last moment when the already badly wounded but still alive heart of my Mišarska is beating