This picture of me was taken when I was in elementary school where classes between Grades 1 through 8 were taught; I cannot remember how old I am in the picture. All I do recall is that the "commotions" for which, by now, I'm sure I'm quite famous, were still with me and, as a result, the beatings from my mother continued all throughout elementary school.
Only one good thing happened to me during this time: I decided to become an artist. Most of the artwork I did appeared on the walls of the neighbours houses and on walls all over the city soon afterwards. As usual, my artistic escapades resulted in further beating from my mother; my ass was red as a tomato.
Despite my girl-gazing, gun-shooting, swimming and other activities characteristic of a healthy young man, I somehow managed to earn an outstanding diploma for finishing Grade 8, complete with excellent marks, especially in art and physical education. Good grades such as these throughout Grades 1 to 8 allowed me to follow any course of study I wanted to in high school.
After I graduated from Grade 8, my friends and I had a hell of a celebration in the local bar called Sumadija; I am the second from the right in the photograph. We were all only fifteen or sixteen years old which was sufficient to be of legal drinking age in Yugoslavia. According to the Yugoslavian government, a person was of legal drinking age the minute he or she could hold up a bottle. The five of us stayed drinking, smoking and singing drunken songs long after closing time. After this celebration, it was the last time that I was beaten by my mother for creating a commotion...
...but the beating did not stop me from enjoying myself by creating commotions all summer before I entered the high school called Gymnasium.
