I was walking around Beaux Arts, rue Bonaparte and Latin quarter just to kill some time until my friend's exhibition (yes, in BA) was ready to be opened. And somehow I finished in front of the sign. Simple one. With lotzaaaa stickers. This one from above. But I stopped for the other reason. I saw written in red - Mileta. Mileta was my professor of drawing at some point in my life. Before university. Before architecture. Before serious things. Before realizing that life is not a serious thing. Bah. Before...you know what I mean.

Later he moved to Korea. The good one. Good Korea. With his wife. I don't remember her name, just that she was lovely. I met him only once in the street, during these, well, many years and I remember well that he told me some inspiring words. That he gave me that push, that I felt better and that I was aware that I can make more and be better in everything I am doing.

Us, the crew that was taking drawing classes in his atelier, just above one famous bar back home, have had a huge respect for that man. He is only a few years older, but we believed in advices he was giving. All of them. At least I did.

Now, why does my post has a silly title: Mileta&respect. There goes the story... One day he came into atelier, to give us the class in super cool T-shirt. We were all like - yeah, what a cool professor we are having. It was written RESPECT. Big, bold, sans serif (if I remember well) letters. RESPECT. We told him, hey Mileta, that shirt rocks! He, modest as he was, looked at the shirt and said in his specific, slow
voice: Oooooh, tnx, but I am a bit confused what does -respect- mean in this context... I should respect someone, or somebody should respect me, or that is respect in general...

He is an amazing artist. I went to his blog. Realized he is living in South Africa. My close friend, Dave is also living there now. That Mileta moved away from Korea. That I need to write him an e-mail to tell him he made my day once again!

And one thing is certain. I have no idea what the author of the shirt from above wanted to say. But, respect goes to Mileta. 

I had 1000 things to do today. Sun was shining and I was waiting for the last rays to get out for a walk on Père Lachaise... 
I've never been to this part of the graveyard... Its the one with the monuments of the people who died in Nazi camps. Each and every one of them is a master piece. It took me so long to see them all... I heard the bell in the distance (Dylan's song?!) and thought it was a church somewhere around. They were actually calling people to come back cause the graveyard was closing. I almost stayed inside locked. I met the figure of Balzac while almost running. 
"They died for your freedom" the monuments say. It gives me the shiver. 

Your eyes won't open wide enough

And you're constantly surrounded 

By the swirling stream of what is and what was

Well, we've all made our predictions 

But the truth still isn't out

But if you want to see the future

Go and stare into a cloud

And keep trying to find your way 

Out through that maze of memories

It all sort of looks familiar 

Until you get up close, then it's different clearly

But each time you turn a corner

You're right back where you were 

And your only hope is that forgetting 

Might make a door appear 

Is it your fear of being buried 

That makes you so afraid to speak? 

An avalanche of opinions 

Like the one that fell that I'm now underneath 

It was my voice that moved the first rock 

And I would do it all again

I mean, it's cool if you keep quiet

But I like singing 

So I'll be holding my note and stomping 

And strumming and feeling so very lucky

And there is nothing I know except a lifetime's one moment

And wishing will just leave you empty 

So you can try to live in darkness 

But you will never shake the light 

No, it will greet you every morning

Make you more aware with its absence at night 

When you're wrapped up in your blankets, baby

That comfortable cocoon 

But I've seen the day of your awakening, boy

And it's coming soon

So go ahead and lose yourself in liquor

And you can praise the clouded mind 

But it isn't what you're thinking, no

It's the course of history, your position in line 

You're just a piece of the puzzle

So I think you'd better find your place

...