The reader

There exsist people who simpley do not read. The atlas of their interest streaches from football results to the pages with photographs of boobs or particularley nastey picturesque murders in the yellow press. They do not enjoy reading. They find their own way to the sublime or divine in life, without having to look for education in litereature. There are many such people.

One of them works on an island in the Adriatic sea. He is allright. Does he posses a working permit, probabley not. You will recognise him by his entriely bald and sun fired head, and the few teeth still clinging to his gums. He is a dedicated worker, drives a jeep, carries luggage, barbicues in scoorching mid day heat, and whenever a chance appears he slips off into the woods to rest his bones, under the pretense that he is still working, and rats out to the boss all the colligues he catches doing the same thing. He is a seasonoal worker from Bosnia.

The tropical Dalmatian island, with its portfolio photographs of flora and fauna resembeling the long lost bibblical paradise gardens, attracted one summer day a gentleman toursit from Belgrade to come and stay.

In the name of good times the man rented the island's largest vila. Yet considerting he had traveled hither alone, the large villa just augmented his lonleyness. What use are three toilets to a man who is alone? And seeing he had a bolding head, in the style of the smurfs arch enemy Gargamil, bold at the top with a bit of dyed black hedge round the base, from all angles the villa's eamptyness reflected off his sun scorched and sweaty head.

He atempted to prevent the reflection of that lonleyness by ganashing upon the boldpatch a hankercheif, held in place with 4 knots, one for each side of the world. But the hankerchief constanltey kept lifting off and setting sail on the island breeze, trying to rid itself of him, and leave him to hide that lonleyness in blind conviction and arrogance owned by all men who appear at the seaside sporting white sandals and white socks.

Upon the same tropical mini cosoms lived a girl employed in the design of jewllery. Her dailey routine was of the freer type, she worked when she wished to, she swam when she wanted, the only activity she compleated in synchrony with thethe rest of the islanders, was eat in the restaurant at same time .

In the restrouant was where he aproached her for the first time.

I have seen you before, during your promenade. A paradise bird. A Beauty.

The middle aged man, with slighltey loose skin, hanging office boobs, and spectacles, did not by any means, on first sight, appear attractive enough to be able to charm a girl half a life younger than he. Yet he, alike much of his breed, was encouraged, by the certanty of assumption, that his image on others left the impression of an interlectual. Further more balkan men are not known for giving up on an idea they have their mind set on, and so the letch insisted, begged for several days that " the young lady join him, for one drink, even, during middle of the day, even in midst of the restourant.

" Champagne" Promptley oredered she. Why not help the restourant, and pay for the boredom she expected.

They sat at a table. The man drew a book out of his towel and placed it nonchalantley on the table's surface. The drink arrived. What do two strangers have to talk about? About what they do usualy and what they are doing on the island. He is a producer of cartoons form Belgrade, here at sea to relax, enrich his mind, he came from the greatest wish to read everything he did not have time for during the year. He brought two suitcases full of books. Yes he came exsclusivley to be at peace and read.

What is that book about? Asked she notioning to the one proped upon the table. Ah, this one he just started. The book was aobut zen philosophy, and the ways to become all together a better man towards himself and others. The drink was soon drunk. The little company fell apart. And thoguh the toursit pleeded for the meeting to strech a little, the girl got up, gave her thanks and dissapered in to the island shrubbery.

The next day when the girl woke up and came to the restoruant for her moring coffee, she met the tourist agian. He invited her to breakfast with him, but she declined.

When she walked a little furither from the restourant, out of the shadows of a tree, exited his pale freckely body, an accidental encounter of destiny ,of course, and very excitedley without premission the man colided with the girl, becosue simpley had to, recount , the enlightening details he disocvered in the book last night. She politley listened, than walked away on her own business.

It appears that this initial curtesy had an effect upon the serbian, he saw in it a possibility to be rid of his tiring and all present lonleyness. Iluminated by the light of the moring and reflections of the agava's the girl appeared like a divine vision, and became to this man the point of his holliday, a key which released a boulder of obssesive behavour to roll freeley down the hill. From that moment the serbian started to jump out of bushes where ever she would appear. He fell out of the thinest possible shadows in the style of Pink Panter the cartoon detective. He managed even to pass unnoticed by the screaming peacoks who had proabablye begun to ignore him due to sheer time lenth he spent waiting to pounce, crouching in the shrubbery .

The bald barbicue man started teasing the girl. When ever she would pass his barbicue, and this happened offten as next to the barbicue flowed the path to the beach, he was selling the serbian man's qualites. Saying how the girl has to give him a chance, hear him out. That he would be real good for her, a fine man, his homie, best mate.

The restourant too started buzzing aobut the girls "friend" who spent the days investigating and questioning everyone as to where she may be.

The crazier he became, the bigger effort she made to awoid him. She began creeping aobut the island, trying to get to the beach without his noticing. Once luckley she saw him in the bar next to the sea, drinking coffee with the workers, and just as she made it around the wall of the bar, head down, to get to the beach quickley and slither to the furthest end of the bay unnoticed, on the other side of the wall, sprawled in the sun and sweating, who does she bump into, but him.

It must have been hours he has been lying there and reading. Says he.

But when will he, oh when will he be able to tell her all about this new book, so intriguing that he has accepted to be hostage and spend the day frying in the sun, just to read it, he is certain it would interest her.

She does not know, she has work to do, she invents excuses to awoid time with him. The predator than speaks a few magic words. Well where do you hide all day? I have searched for you all over the island and I still can not find where you work.

Ah. Fear into the bones. All she needs with the mosquitoes, flies and snakes is this pesty man to follow her and jump out of cactuses out side her hut. She had to satisy him just enough for him to leave her be.

They arranged a diner. The same day. During the day. In the restoruant by the sea. Long before sun set. By the way, could he acompany her now to the place where she swims? No. And the girl sped away across a bay of sharp stones.

Evening. They met at the table under the olive tree. He as always brought his books. How can one interlectual survive the island without a book under the arm? She ordered everything she had not yet tired, and good vine, seeing he wants to socialise so much, make it expensive for him.

The dinner was tastey. He spoke aobut books. She too talked aobut the books she had read. She actualy loved to read, had read a lot, many books he had never heard of. On the other hand she was not familiar with the titles he carried about, so he used the dinner to summerise these new books he has read since they had the glass of champagne. He explained what they where aobut. What happens at the end. And all the possible conclusions that could be drawn. He wanted to teach her, being older, to bring jewls of knowledge to her life on this primitive island. When the dinner was over, the girl used the dark and wilderness , to dissapeer.

Tomorrow she traveled away from the island.

The day after tomorrow she returned .

The bald barbicue man awaited the arrival of the boat, and drowe her with the jeep to the restoruant at the top of the hill. Well did anything happen with my firend. He asked in a friendley tone. No, Of course not. No chance, Answered the girl . Is he still on the island? She asks.

Left this morning, holliday fhinished. So notthing, notthing at all happedend between you? The baldie askes again incredulousley. What an ass. He says.

Not your best mate any longer?

What mate, what friend, he was a clean business transaction. He sneers. I'm right knackered and exhausted because of him, good thing he left. You know, that each night he gave me 100 euros to read those books he constantley carried aobut? I tired, exhausted, all day been working on the barbicue, where'd he come to bother me, stick to me and drink, and than at night I had to read those bloodey books, and you know how in our house the light is bad, and the guys snore in beds around me, had to read with a torch squinting, and that attracts all those fucking mosquitoes.

What? She says surprised. He paid you to read the books? Why?

Yep. So, he'd be cool, be the man. In the morings i had to summerise every part of the book, ma eyes are still in pain, says the barbicue man, wipes the sweat from his head, and swings the jeep in reverse. He wanted to be a hot shot, to impress you with the books, conqour you, how ever you like. But you say he didn't. Im so glad. Dear girl . He told me that I could be doing something better with life. But you see, every night I became a 100 euros richer by the book, and forgive my language,he left with having gotten none, sunburnt, a fool and an ass, and he still doesen't know what is actualy writen in those books. What can i say, its not all about the money, and not all wisedom can be found in books.