Prologue

A GUIDE TO REAL LIFE
Matrix Is Shutting Down

Pale and distant, we’re entering another spring. As if all this is happening to someone else.
As if we’ve become heroes of movies and series filmed all these years against us, at our expense. The forefathers of Serbian holy dynasties in those films and series resemble shepherds speaking New Belgrade slang and flirting with servants. The founders of Serbian faith resemble commissaries of non-governmental organizations. Rural homes in resurrected Serbia of the XIX century, the strongest Serbian class, are full of fierce drunkenness and incests, exploitation and evil politics. The King Liberator, like a fainthearted old woman, without anything heroic or noble in him, ends his life groaning over his fate: ”Why did I need all this?” The victorious army of the greatest commanders in recent Serbian history is wandering lost through a swamp, drowning in shallow waters, ignorantly shooting their own and just waiting for a moment to flee. After the greatest and dearest new-age war victory, the Serbian state is allegedly run by a mafia made of refuged Russian imperial officers, leaving their bloody traces in churches. The entire Serbia turns into a Jatagan-mahala, managed from the shadows by a homosexual general.
Although we might be blunted, we begin to realize: that entire parallel world of systematic forgeries and poisonous media, that entire planted construction, has nothing to do with us. If we still have anything to do with ourselves.
That is why we walked in contrast here. We reminded of the 20th anniversary of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization’s aggression against Serbia. We visited the confluence of Tisa and Danube, Svilajnac and Bistričko Vrelo under Lučka Gora. We counted all three hundred wonders of Žarkovo. Wrote about Serbs in Constantinople. (...)
It’s easier for you. All you have to do is turn a page.