This is the first post in 2022, so I’ll keep it short and dandy. I slept through New Year’s Eve because I wasn’t going to a party, town’s square music concert, or anything like that. The thing is, nobody I know planned on going to a party, organizing anything, calling a few friends, and just sitting in one room until midnight. I just wished both of my parents a Happy New Year and went to bed. I wasn’t drinking at all that day, nor do we have egg nog as a traditional beverage for such occasions. If we ever drink anything during the winter festivals, it’s probably boiled rakija, with added sugar and water to dilute the alcohol content because if you boil moonshine, you get the alcohol levels doubled. So, sober as a rock, I just went to bed. I even planned on turning off my phone, but I left it by the computer and got in the sheets. Did I sleep? Well, of course not. The fireworks and the cannonade in the nearby town were so loud, they reminded me of American bombs during the 1999 war. I am 32 years old, mind you, and I remember my childhood well. The sky grew red and flashy, making the visuals follow the tune, and it really summoned some memories back. My sub-conscience was battling the images out before the sunrise when my eyes felt sour and ready to close. And then my father walked in calling me for breakfast. A misty day, followed by a sunny afternoon with birds chirping on the branches, it was like the spring came in January. Odd, but a welcome sight after a gloomy month with little to no light outside. And today, I am back at editing.