Antibiblioteka
Imam mnoga iskustva koja su, mislim, zajednička svima koji poseduju veoma mnogo knjiga (sada ih imam oko četrdeset hiljada, između Milana i mojih drugih kuća) i svima koji biblioteku ne smatraju samo mestom za čuvanje već pročitanih knjiga, nego pre svega skladištem knjiga koje će se čitati jednog budućeg dana, kada se za tim oseti potreba. Često se dogodi da nam pogled padne na neku knjigu koju još nismo pročitali, i obuzme nas griža savesti.
Ali onda najzad dođe dan kada, da biste nešto saznali o određenoj temi, odlučite da konačno otvorite jednu od mnogih nepročitanih knjiga, i shvatite da je već poznajete. Šta se dogodilo? Postoji mističko-biološko objašnjenje: s protokom vremena, dok knjige premeštamo, brišemo s njih prašinu i vraćamo ih na mesto, suština knjige je dodirom vrhova prstiju postepeno prodrla u naš um. Postoji i objašnjenje usputnog, ali neprekidnog prelistavanja: kako vreme prolazi, a vi uzimate i iznova slažete razne tomove, nije tačno da knjiga nikada nije ni pogledana; već i pri samom premeštanju bacili ste pogled na poneku stranicu, jednu danas, drugu sledećeg meseca, i tako redom, dok je na kraju niste pročitali najvećim delom, makar ne na uobičajeni, linearni način. No pravo objašnjenje je to da smo, između trenutka kada je knjiga prvi put stigla do nas i trenutka kada smo je otvorili, pročitali druge knjige u kojima je bilo nešto od onoga što je rekla ta prva knjiga, pa na kraju tog dugog intertekstualnog putovanja shvatate da je i ta knjiga, koju niste pročitali, ipak bila deo vašeg duhovnog nasleđa i da je možda duboko uticala na vas.
Tekst na engleskom
I have many experiences that are, I think, common to all who possess very many books (I now have around forty thousand volumes, between Milan and my other houses) and to all who consider a library not just a place to keep books one has already read but primarily a deposit for books to be read at some future date, when one feels the need to read them. It often happens that our eyes fall on some book we have not yet read, and we are filled with remorse.
But then the day eventually comes when, in order to learn something about a certain topic, you decide finally to open one of the many unread books, only to realize that you already know it. What has happened? There is the mystical-biological explanation, whereby with the passing of time, and by dint of moving books, dusting them, then putting them back, by contact with our fingertips the essence of the book has gradually penetrated our mind. There is also the casual but continual scanning explanation: as time goes by, and you take up and then reorder various volumes, it is not the case that the book has never been glanced at; even by merely moving it you glanced at a few pages, one today, another the next month, and so on until you end up by reading most of it, if not in the usual linear way. But the true explanation is that between the moment when the book first came to us and the moment when we opened it, we have read other books in which there was something that was said by that first book, and so, at the end of this long intertextual journey, you realize that even that book you had not read was still part of your mental heritage and perhaps had influenced you profoundly.
Ovde su tekstovi drugih autora koje je Vukota čuvao: članci, pesme, dokumenta. Antibiblioteka je otvorena za porodicu.
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