Stefanija – “The litle girl with the long hair” musical solo performance

Stefanija – “The litle girl with the long hair” musical solo performance (promo)

Stefanija – “The litle girl with the long hair” musical solo performance (full performance)


                          THE LITTLE GIRL WITH THE LONG HAIR (Text)

Whenever she came to the place called “Peace” she had the same feeling of serenity and happiness, the little girl with the long hair. Deep inside she knew that it was not only the place that made her particularly filled-in with hopes for a better tomorrow. Warmth and desire for discovering the biggest secrets of mankind were drifting so intensely that the butterflies left for the place of no-return after overflying her sight. The reason were her strongly expressed thoughts that were powerful enough for the nature to sense the vibration and flickering. She strongly breathed out and then breathed in again, but this time deeper, to let the oxygen enter deep into each cell and bring information about her entire existence. She sat on the stone that she herself had named “Dushan” (a personal name derived from Spirit, trans. rem.) because it was good and it listened to her. When she raised her head, the landscape spread in front of her eyes as if it had been waiting impatiently to tell her everything she had missed while travelling through time, because the space she was in had presaged and accomplished all the preconditions of existence. She smiled and inspected it with the biggest interest, as if she had travelled only for its sake for so long.

She spoke to everything surrounding her and everything that is a part of nature, but mostly to herself. She sometimes even addressed her thought:

Hey, you, thought of mine, you really know how to fly away, sometimes in a direction not familiar enough, but I know that it is a provocation for getting familiar with the unanswered. You are digging and seeing through so deep into the substance of the most essential problems of today. You are amazingly tireless, for which you are awarded with answers that are kept deep inside, locked up with several lockers, the lockers of my soul. In order for someone to unlock them, one needs the key of truth! And to get to this key you know that you must quickly run out of that abyss called “life” and search and find the mysterious secrets of yours and then spread your wings that are safeguarded by your Guardian Angel! But yes! I know it is not easy for you to make this step, the step called FORCE, which leads to a better and real life! I therefore recommend to you that if you have that capability, go and run across the meadow and go back to your abyss so that tomorrow, when the sun breaks in again, it may remind you of the hope that should bring you to me. Therefore, you, thought of mine, better stick to me. Your accelerated steps cannot be heard by everybody because deaf is everyone around me and everyone is slowly losing one’s sight, disable to speak. Tame yourself, oh thought, because the place you are heading to is dangerous, you can encounter peace and love, but who can guarantee it, you are very experienced and the opposite has been proven to you. Oh, you, thought… Stop! I know what you are up to tell me, but I will not let what you have seen and heard prevent me. I know that I can! I know that I know, I believe, I exist! I am sure that truth is summoning me and as a speedy bird I am heading after it, no wind can prevent me, there is no man to forbear me, because I know how much I love and look for what I can feel and sense intuitively. I know THAT is TRUTH!

At this spot she was interrupted by several little horses that appeared as a part of the landscape. They were searching for food and she transformed them into her loyal audience, narrating to them about her Macedonia, hoping that what they hear they will impatiently pass over to her co-citizens. The little girl with the long hair rose from the stone named Dushan and took a serious posture to narrate. On her right side there protruded the Bitola houses, not far away from the meadows she was standing at . . . .

One thousand and nine hundred and . . . generals, officers . . . a synthesis of a palette and a castle . . . I am listening to this melody . . . The longer I am standing here, the more I feel the spirit of that time . . . consuls, ballroom dancing. Yes, I was there, I am just coming from there. They danced, they played music, they sang. . . And that was not all, there I saw. . . If I start counting, so many historical names will jump out from my mouth that. . . I met there my grandmother, my grandfather, and our ancestors. It is best for me to daydream. I bristle at the very memory. How nice. All this is ours, mine, yours – ours, Macedonia! . . . I am so hot, I feel it is not the weather, I am hot here, in my chest. Look (she points to Bitola), the park is clean, it is amazingly beautiful, but strange, some birds are new, and this is not all, every thought is new. . . I want to create, I want to open a road, either new or written down before us, something that not even the fallen leaves in the park can tell. Who knows how they feel . . . even the best of all men steps them over. However, they are used to it, they even wait for those in love to step over them. Perhaps this is a way of receiving love, who knows?

I opt for love. I believe in love, because all the senses made me believe in it. I believe in love! And if I repeat this several more times, I will make the thought believe in it. They say the thought is faster than the light, and my hope depends on that light. I asked the light to illuminate this crazy head of mine and I wished to fly! Hey, you, bird! Land by my side so that I can fly and leave the starched heart to those not in love because they need it. I want to go somewhere far, farther than I can see and look. So let your spirit fly, be happy, love, believe, because nothing is accidental!

Elated by the strength of her thought, she understood how much she loved freedom. She spread abroad her arms, she looked at the stars and thanked them for illuminating her life and pervaded as hope in every dark moment created by fear from the unknown. When she thought about Freedom, she meant spiritual Freedom and Freedom via HIGH MORAL. She gratefully addressed everything around her and glowed with happiness indispensable for life to obtain a meaning. She went down the meadow with steps bigger than any possible human material achievement, multiplying it by zero and gave a meaning to real happiness, feeling the freedom! With fascination, wisdom and speed she headed to her native town Bitola, the little girl with the long hair. . .