Zoran Tosic - the career of a modest but promising Serbian football player. Search engine Zoran Tosic biography

1 Stojkovic () 2 Sleeve 3 Kolarov 4 Cachar 5) – What God are you talking about, monsignor? – I asked sadly.
“Surely, not the one to whom Caraffa is praying!” Morone smiled goodbye.
I stood there for another moment, trying to remember the image of this wonderful man in my soul, and, waving goodbye, I went out into the corridor.
The sky opened up with a flurry of anxiety, panic and fear!.. Where was my brave, lonely girl now?! What prompted her to leave Meteora?.. For some reason Anna did not respond to my persistent calls, although I knew that she heard me. This instilled even greater anxiety, and I only held on with the last of my strength so as not to succumb to the panic burning my soul, since I knew that Caraffa would certainly take advantage of any weakness of mine. And then I will have to lose before I even begin to resist...
Secluded in “my” chambers, I “licked” old wounds, not even hoping that they would ever heal, but simply trying to be as strong and calm as possible in case of any opportunity to start a war with Caraffa... There is no point in hoping for a miracle it was, because I knew perfectly well that in our case miracles were not expected... Everything that happens, I will have to do only myself.
Inaction was killing, making me feel forgotten by everyone, helpless and unnecessary... And although I knew perfectly well that I was wrong, the worm of “black doubt” successfully gnawed at my inflamed brain, leaving there a bright trace of uncertainty and regrets...
I didn’t regret that I was with Caraffa myself... But I was terribly afraid for Anna. And also, I still couldn’t forgive myself for the death of my father and Girolamo, my beloved and the best people in the world for me... Will I ever be able to avenge them?.. Isn’t everyone right when they say that Caraffa cannot be defeated ? That I won’t destroy him, but will just die stupidly myself?.. Was the North really right in inviting him to go to Meteora? And was it really possible that the hope of destroying the Pope all this time lived only in me?!..
And one more thing... I felt that I was very tired... Inhumanly, terribly tired... Sometimes it even seemed - wouldn’t it have been better to go to Meteora?.. After all, someone went there?.. And why They weren’t worried that people were dying around them. It was important for them to KNOW, to receive intimate KNOWLEDGE, since they considered themselves exceptionally gifted... But, on the other hand, if they were truly so “exceptional”, then how, in this case, did they forget the simplest, but in my opinion, our very important commandment is - do not retire while others need your help... How could they just close themselves off without even looking around, without trying to help others?.. How did they calm their souls?..
Of course, my “indignant” thoughts had nothing to do with the children in Meteora... This war was not their war, it concerned only adults... And the kids still had to walk long and hard along the path of knowledge in order to be able to protect your home, your family and everyone good people living on our strange, incomprehensible Earth.
No, I was thinking specifically about adults... About those who considered themselves too “special” to risk their “precious” lives. About those who preferred to sit out in Meteora, inside its thick walls, while the Earth was bleeding and those as gifted as they were going to their deaths in droves...
I have always loved freedom and valued the right of free choice of every individual. But there were moments in life when our personal freedom was not worth millions of lives of other good people... In any case, that’s what I decided for myself... And I wasn’t going to change anything. Yes, there were moments of weakness when it seemed that the sacrifice that was being made would be completely meaningless and in vain. That she would not change anything in this cruel world... But then the desire to fight returned again... Then everything fell into place, and with all my being I was ready to return to the “battlefield”, despite how unequal I was war...
Long, hard days crawled by in a string of “unknowns,” and still no one bothered me. Nothing changed, nothing happened. Anna was silent, not responding to my calls. And I had no idea where she was, or where I could look for her...
And then one day, mortally tired of empty, endless waiting, I finally decided to fulfill my long-standing, sad dream - knowing that I would probably never be able to see my beloved Venice in another way, I decided to go there “by breath” to say goodbye ...
It was May outside, and Venice was dressing up like a young bride, celebrating her most beautiful holiday - the holiday of Love...
Love hovered everywhere - the air itself was saturated with it!.. Bridges and canals breathed with it, it penetrated into every corner of the elegant city... into every fiber of every lonely soul living in it... For this one day, Venice turned into a magical flower love - burning, intoxicating and beautiful! The streets of the city were literally “drowning” in a myriad of scarlet roses, with lush “tails” hanging down to the very water, gently caressing it with fragile scarlet petals... All of Venice was fragrant, exuding the smells of happiness and summer. And for this one day, even the most gloomy inhabitants of the city left their homes, and smiling with all their might, they expected that maybe on this beautiful day even they, sad and lonely, would smile at the capricious Love...
The holiday began from the very early morning, when the first rays of the sun were just beginning to gild the city canals, showering them with hot kisses, from which they, blushing shyly, were filled with red bashful highlights... Right there, not even allowing you to wake up properly, under the windows The first love romances were already tenderly sounding from the city beauties... And the magnificently dressed gondoliers, having decorated their polished gondolas in a festive scarlet color, waited patiently at the pier, each hoping to seat the brightest beauty of this wonderful, magical day.
During this holiday, there were no prohibitions for anyone - young and old poured out into the streets, tasting the upcoming fun, and tried to occupy themselves in advance. best places on the bridges to get a closer look at the passing gondolas carrying the famous Venetian courtesans, as beautiful as spring itself. These one-of-a-kind women, whose intelligence and beauty were admired by poets, and whom artists embodied forever in their magnificent canvases.

I always believed that love can only be pure, and I never understood or agreed with betrayal. But the courtesans of Venice were not just women from whom love was bought. Apart from the fact that they were always extraordinarily beautiful, they were all also superbly educated, incomparably better than any bride from a rich and noble Venetian family... Unlike the very educated noble Florentines, the women of Venice in my time were not even allowed to enter to public libraries and to be “well-read,” since the wives of noble Venetians were considered just a beautiful thing, a loving husband closed at home “for the good” of his family... And the higher the status of the lady, the less she was allowed to know. Courtesans, on the contrary, usually knew several languages, played musical instruments, read (and sometimes wrote!) poetry, knew philosophers very well, understood politics, sang and danced superbly... In short, they knew everything that any noble woman (in my opinion) was obliged to know. And I have always honestly believed that if the wives of nobles knew even the slightest fraction of what the courtesans knew, fidelity and love would reign forever in our wonderful city...
I did not approve of treason, but also, I could not respect women who did not know (and did not want to know!) beyond what was beyond the walls of their native Venice. Surely, this was my Florentine blood speaking in me, but I absolutely could not stand ignorance! And people who had unlimited opportunities to KNOW, but did not want to, only caused me hostility.
But let's return to my beloved Venice, which, as I knew, was supposed to prepare for its usual annual celebration that evening...
Very easily, without any special effort, I appeared in the main square of the city.
Everything seemed to be the same as before, but this time, although decorated in the old way, Venice was almost empty. I walked along the lonely canals, unable to believe my eyes!.. It was not too late, and usually at such a time the city was still noisy, like an alarmed beehive, anticipating its favorite holiday. But that evening, beautiful Venice was empty... I couldn’t understand where all the happy faces had gone?.. What happened to my beautiful city in those short few years???
Walking slowly along the deserted embankment, I inhaled such familiar, warm and soft, salty air, unable to hold back the happy and sad tears flowing down my cheeks at the same time... This was my home!.. My truly native and beloved city. Venice has always remained MY city!.. I loved its rich beauty, its high culture... Its bridges and gondolas... And even just its unusualness, making it the only city of its kind ever built on Earth.
The evening was very pleasant and quiet. Gentle waves, quietly whispering something, lazily splashed against the stone portals... And smoothly rocking the elegant gondolas, they ran back into the sea, taking with them the crumbling rose petals, which, floating further, became like scarlet drops of blood, by someone generously splashed across the mirror water.
Suddenly, a very familiar voice pulled me out of my sad-happy dreams:
- It can not be!!! Isidora?! Is it really you?!..
Our good old friend, Francesco Rinaldi, stood, looking at me in shock, as if a familiar ghost had suddenly appeared right in front of him... Apparently not daring to believe that it was really me.
- My God, where are you from?! We thought you died a long time ago! How did you manage to escape? Have you really been released?!..
“No, they didn’t let me go, my dear Francesco,” I answered sadly, shaking my head. – And, unfortunately, I did not manage to escape... I just came to say goodbye...
- But how can that be? You're here right? And completely free? Where is my friend?! Where is Girolamo? I haven’t seen him for so long and I missed him so much!..
- Girolamo is no more, dear Francesco... Just as his father is no more...
Was the reason that Francesco was a friend from our happy “past”, or was I just wildly tired of endless loneliness, but, telling him about the horror that the Pope had done to us, I suddenly felt inhumanly pain... And then I finally burst through!.. Tears poured out like a waterfall of bitterness, sweeping away embarrassment and pride, and leaving only the thirst for protection and the pain of loss... Hiding on his warm chest, I sobbed like a lost child looking for friendly support...
– Calm down, my dear friend... Well, what are you talking about! Please calm down...
Francesco stroked my tired head, as my father had done long ago, wanting to calm me down. The pain burned, again mercilessly throwing me into the past, which could not be returned, and which no longer existed, since there were no longer people on Earth who created this wonderful past...
– My home has always been your home, Isidora. You need to be hidden somewhere! Let's come to us! We'll do everything we can. Please come to us!.. You will be safe with us!
They were wonderful people - his family... And I knew that if only I agreed, they would do everything to shelter me. Even if they themselves are in danger for it. And for a short moment I suddenly wanted to stay so wildly!.. But I knew perfectly well that this would not happen, that I would leave right now... And in order not to give myself vain hopes, I immediately said sadly:
– Anna remained in the clutches of the “holy” Pope... I think you understand what this means. And now I have her alone... Sorry, Francesco.
And remembering something else, she asked:
– Can you tell me, my friend, what is happening in the city? What happened to the holiday? Or has our Venice, like everything else, also become different?..
– The Inquisition, Isidora... Damn it! It's all the Inquisition...
– ?!..
- Yes, dear friend, she even got here... And the worst thing is, many people fell for it. Apparently, for the evil and insignificant, the same “evil and insignificant” is needed so that everything that they have hidden for many years will be revealed. The Inquisition has become a terrible instrument of human revenge, envy, lies, greed and malice!.. You can’t even imagine, my friend, how low seemingly the most normal people can fall!.. Brothers slander unwanted brothers... children slander their aged fathers, wanting to get rid of them as quickly as possible... envious neighbors against neighbors... This is terrible! No one is protected today from the coming of the “holy fathers”... It’s so scary, Isidora! All you have to do is say to someone that he is a heretic, and you will never see that person again. True madness... which reveals the lowest and worst in people... How to live with this, Isidora?
Francesco stood hunched over, as if the heaviest burden was pressing on him like a mountain, not allowing him to straighten up. I knew him for a very long time, and I knew how difficult it was to break this honest, brave man. But life at that time hunched over him, turning him into a confused man who did not understand such human meanness and baseness, into a disappointed, aging Francesco... And now, looking at my good old friend, I realized that I was right in deciding to forget my personal life , giving it for the death of the “holy” monster, who trampled on the lives of other, good and pure people. It was only unspeakably bitter that there were low and vile “people” who rejoiced (!!!) at the arrival of the Inquisition. And the pain of others did not touch their callous hearts, rather, on the contrary - they themselves, without a twinge of conscience, used the clutches of the Inquisition to destroy the innocent, good people! How far our Earth was from that have a good day, when a Man will be pure and proud!.. When his heart will not succumb to meanness and evil... When Light, Sincerity and Love will live on Earth. Yes, the North was right - the Earth was still too evil, stupid and imperfect. But I believed with all my soul that someday she would become wise and very kind... only many more years would pass for this. In the meantime, those who loved her had to fight for her. Forgetting yourself, your family... And not sparing your only earthly Life, which is very dear to everyone. Having forgotten myself, I didn’t even notice that Francesco was watching me very carefully, as if he wanted to see if he could persuade me to stay. But the deep sadness in his sad gray eyes told me - he understood... And hugging him tightly for the last time, I began to say goodbye...