A "MIRA FURLAN" Bowl   Almost 3 years, January 2003 – September 2005 Ljubljana, Slovenia You wanted me to bake bread. Because a woman kneading dough is so erotic, isn't she? You probably thought I’d work up such a sweat that it would drip from my breasts directly into the bowl. One summer day I dressed up only in an apron, just for you and the bowl. In three years I made bread five times in this bowl. It never was any good, always hard as a rock. I don’t know why. Maybe it is because the bowl is too small for kneading, or because I sometimes forgot to put in the yeast. Do you put an egg in bread? You were always eyeing me suspiciously when I was “getting to work”. You wanted me to be like Mira Furlan in the film “Lepota poroka”. But I’m not Mira Furlan. Now I know that the bread was bad because I was afraid that you would – like it happened in the film – smash it on my head with a hammer, if I happened to look at another boy for a tad too long. After that I only ate salad from the bowl for a while. I lost 21 kilograms. And the Furlan woman is not such a babe anymore.