EBU(Senior group) Fine Work

MONTENEGRO Bozidar DENDA(35/ male)

The life on the Earth is a road, and there are crossroads on each road. The crossroads are different directions bound into knots. For each of us, it is most difficult to come across on them, because the safety of them is the least, and the uncertainty grows to non-imaginable frontiers, hardly comprehensive for the moment we stand in. There are many ways which we can choose starting from these crossroads. There are many ways which are wrong, and only one is the right one. Only one of them leads to life and brings the victory. If you are a man and if you live up to early twenties, and just then fully lose your sight, that is as if you had remain on a crossroad without a road sign, as if you had lost your sword in the middle of a battle, as if your steering-wheel had stopped working in the middle of a sea strait, as if there were no compass in a deep and dark forest, in which the light turns more and more to darkness, fear and delusion. I was a man in my early twenties. I was the one to whom something like that had happened. And therefore I know what I am talking to you about.
However, in the middle of that darkness, which squeezed me from outside and ruined me from inside, I touched firm ground, and as soon as I stepped on it, the safety and joy returned to me, that safety and joy that the words cannot describe. That was the scripture I was able to touch with my fingers. Softly and with satisfaction, I drew my fingers over the dots for the first, then for the second time. Then again and again... Line by line, page by page, a new world opened up in front of me and for me. In fact, it was that old world, but with new shine. It shone stronger than anything, because something that was lost and found again is much dearer that something that we have not lost at all. That scripture was an island of joy in the sea of sorrow and suffering on which I was pushed without any hope to reach the land and to anchor there with my pain. That scripture was a true light in the overall darkness the joy for all the sad and the consolation for all those who suffer.
That was a shelter for all those who roam, and finally find themselves at home again, freezed, hungry for home warmth and thirsty of themselves. Despite all, I was a man again, despite the destiny which ruined me and broke me, despite the others who looked at me with in confidence, not believing that I am able to do it, despite my next of kin who doubted in my abilities, despite of my own weaknesses which convinced me that I cannot, that I cannot be what I should be. And nonetheless, I was it. I was a man who knows both joy and sorrow, who can see the meaning of the life, and who knows how to joy because he gained the opportunity to persist under the stars. I was someone who knows who he is and what he wants. The scripture of Louis Braille brought all this to me. The dots on the paper caressed by my fingertips, the admirable world of letters that lives under my touch. As if you caressed a dear woman or wiped away the tears from somebody's sad face.
Today, I am again a man who is able to read and write, who can go among the people. I have friends and family. They are all a part of my soul and of my dreams. They all know that they can tell me what they want or write me what they feel. I can do the same for them. There are no secrets among us. The God is wonderful in everything he created. He gives us light and enlightening. He gave it to me. The light gain lives in these dots which bare and reveal words and sentences, chapters and books. I can touch this light and feel it under my skin. I carry this light in my fingers, enjoying every new moment baring knew knowledge, a new life.
The amazing Jorge Garcia told once excitedly: "God gave me the night and the books". Without sight and look, he cared for thousands of books, and none of them was ever lost. That was because his night was enlightened by a dear boy from Paris, who lived a century before. There are many of them who heated themselves on the flame of Braille light. And still many of them who come will heat themselves on that same flame, which never decreases or disappears. That flame shines eternally and warms hands of so many men and women children and elderly. Without a difference, it warms hands of the poor and the rich, of the left and the forgotten, as well as of those who are powerful and distinctive. It shines for peasants and citizens, workers and students, slaves and the free, seamen and prisoners, widows and the sick. They all joy by the same joy. That is like wine summing in the cup of its glory. It is enough to stretch out the hands, and the flame of Louis's light will find them. Here I am, ready for this meeting! I stretch my hands and I look in this way, because my hands are my eyes. At the same time, these are the eyes of millions of my blind but proud brothers and sisters throughout Europe and Asia, throughout America and Africa, in all Australia and Oceania and everywhere on the Earth. And so I look at the world with widely opened eyes, admiring everything that magnificently exist in it and calls to caress. Calls to touch, to the meeting. That is the world Louis Braille revealed to me and I am immensely grateful to him for it.


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