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sleeping sitting up

Remarkably, I fell asleep sitting upright on a cold concrete bench in the Belgrade youth centre – the DOB – at a concert. A full 15 minutes of deep sleep, because the music drowned out everything else like a very public floatation tank. A man called Dragon owns this building, in the 70s it was one of only two state-sanctioned youth culture venues in socialist Yugoslavia, when Yugoslav New Wave was permitted as ‘friendly critique’. Critical friends, but friends who don’t mention Tito. After Tito died, his likeness, the representation of which had been a pervasive presence, first in pseudo-religious scenes and later in that geometric trend of dots forming a graphic of his face, was reduced (prolonged? expanded?) to simply the line of his signature. I was about to say that the reason there are so many little white poodles walking around the streets of Belgrade is because Tito had a little white poodle, but then I find that his dog was a German shepherd called Luks.

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