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Klavdija Ališič has been coming to Dom na Joštu for years. Not because she is a sportswoman, and not because she wants to prove anything to anyone. Nor is it because she wants to chase views.
When Saturday morning was just waking up and the peaks of Pohorje were bathed in mist, a group of people gathered in the parking lot of the old sawmill in Kočno.
I'm standing at the window, watching snowflakes dancing across the sky. They are falling like they haven't in a long time. My memory goes back many years.
Sometimes it is very difficult to describe a place or an idyllic place; it is for me now too. In my memory there is a house on a hill among bushes and woods.
Wood. Trees. Living creatures that attract me very much. I love their crowns and trunks, and especially their varied and branching roots.
When I first arrived at my new job, I was uncertain, quiet and full of questions. I didn't know what to expect, who my new colleagues were or if they would accept me.
As a young graduate teacher, I came to teach in a small village in the Posavje hills. A small village and a small school.
My first encounter with the so-called Vatican bread, at the age of almost 26, was in December, when the days are short and the city closes in the evening.
Some people belong to their homeland without talking about it. They simply live it.
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