Marta’s at a flea market.
“Here you go! Don’t miss out on this! I’m offering you a one-of-a-kind rosary made of Baltic amber!”
She’s bellowing to herself as she sits on the little portable stool. Vendors are charged an arm and a leg to get into the antiques fair. That’s why she’s compelled to be here. She sets out the treasures and the bric-a-brac of her life, piece by piece, on top of a thick cardboard box in which lurks the lukewarm dampness of a dense December fog. A pair of rubber boots appears in front of her, dragging with them an iceberg of slush like the burden of guilt.
“Have you got a woman’s watch?”
Marta went on noiselessly.
“An offer you won’t find elsewhere: an extremely rare alpaca pin for a lady’s hat, relief work in enamel and glass. With it you can get a gilded Biedermeier brooch or a pendant of silver and jade for half price.”
A pair of high-top shoes with bite-marks on the heels come up.
“Is five hundred okay?”
“And here is an object of exceptional emotional and material value—a locket with a photo of my father from his youth. Here you go! Don’t pass this up!”
Children’s feet don’t halt. Children’s fingers clench into fists that smack the darkness inside their pockets.
“Three gold rings, a bracelet done out in pearl, a silver comb in great condition, necklaces and hairpins made in the days when quality was an imperative, only gently used. Better offers you will not find!”
The square space for the exchange of goods is filled with people talking in camel-hump pairs who lower prices for one another, with disillusioned tarpaulins, ancient duct tape, greasy fritters, stale laughter. Wet sneakers of fake leather stop.
“That’s all I have.”
Children’s feet don’t stop.
“Please! Don’t miss your chance! Unique prayer beads of eyes turned to other epochs. This is worth seeing. Gilded Biedermeier loneliness, an alpaca pin for my father’s youth, warm concern made of jade. You won’t find these cheaper.”
“Six hundred. Here you go.”
Marta offers up silence after silence, sells off object after object. Marta is gathering money for her electric bill and the heat.
Men talking in camel-hump pairs lower prices for one another.
Children’s fingers clench into fists.
BAGATELA
Marta je na buvljaku.
„Izvolite! Ne propustite! Nudim vam jedinstvenu brojanicu od baltičkog ćilibara!“
Gromoglasno govori u sebi sedajući na portabl hoklici. Ulaz na sajam antikviteta prodavcima se papreno naplaćuje. Zbog toga je primorana da bude ovde. Polaže dragocenosti i tričarije iz Vidinog stana, iz Vidinog života, jednu po jednu, na kutiju od debelog kartona koja je u sebe sakrila mlaku vlagu guste decembarske magle. Pred nju dolazi par gumenih čizama sa sobom vukući sante lapavice kao teret krivice.
„Imaš neki ženski sat?“
Marta bezglasno nastavlja.
„Neponovljiva ponuda: izuzetno retka alpaka igla za damski šešir u reljefnom radu od emajla i stakla. Uz nju dobijate pozlaćeni bidermajer broš ili privezak od srebra i žada upola cene.“
Prilazi par dubokih cipela s izjedenim flekicama.
„Može za pe’sto?“
„Tu je i jedan predmet od izuzetne emotivne i materijalne vrednosti – medaljon s očevom slikom iz mladosti. Izvolite! Ne propustite!“
Dečja stopala se ne zaustavljaju. Dečji prsti se grče u pesnice koje udaraju po mraku džepova.
„Tri zlatna prstena, narukvica sa sedefnim ukrasom, očuvani srebrni češalj, ogrlice i šnale napravljene u vremenu kad je kvalitet bio imperativ, malo korišćene. Povoljnije naći nećete!“
Kvadratni prostor razmene dobara ispunjavaju dvogrbi sagovornici koji jedan drugom spuštaju cenu, razočarane mušeme, ostarele izolir-trake, masne krofne i prozukli smeh. Vlažne patike od lažne kože zastaju.
„Tol’ko imam.“
Dečja stopala se ne zaustavljaju.
„Izvolite! Ne propustite! Jedinstvena brojanica od očiju okrenutih ka drugim epohama. Vredi pogledati. Pozlaćena bidermajer samoća, alpaka igla za očevu mladost, topla briga od žada. Povoljnije nećete naći.“
„Evo šesto.“
Marta nudi ćutnju po ćutnju, prodaje predmet po predmet. Marta sakuplja novac za struju i grejanje.
Dvogrbi sagovornici spuštaju cenu.
Dečji prsti se grče u pesnice.
BOJAN BABIĆ (1977) is a writer from Belgrade, Serbia. He has published eight books of prose. His works have been translated to English, German, Hungarian, Albanian, Macedonian, Swedish, Icelandic, Kazakh language. English translation of his omnibus-novel Girls, Be Good was published in Great Britain (Glagoslav publications, London, 2016).
JOHN K. COX is a professor of East European history at North Dakota State University in Fargo (USA).
