U brutalnom seciranju svake pjesme nalazila sam komadiće svojih snova, boli, htijenja i tlapnji. Postalo je osobno, a time i bitnije od bitnoga. Prenijeti te misli, nekom tamo čitaocu, koji samim svojim kulturološkim porijeklom ne može razumjeti slavenski patos, postala je glavna preokupacija i zagonetka koju sam rješavala gotovo godinu dana. Natjerati ga u bol ali i u smijeh. Jer Glumac se poigrava sa svojom boli. Izvrće je, šutira, razvlači, te lijepi poput izrezanih riječi iz novina i stvara fragmentirane cjeline. Njegove zapisane rane možeš nanjušiti i osjetiti toplinu svježe krvi dok ti već u sljedećem stihu nameće: „Ali živ sam! Biram život!“
Iz predgovora A. Saške Mutić
In the brutal dissection of each poem, I found fragments of my dreams, pains, desires, and hopes. It became personal and, therefore, more important than anything else. Passing these thoughts on to the readers out there who might not understand Slavic pathos because of their cultural background became my main preoccupation and a puzzle I dealt with for almost a year. I wanted to translate the pain but also the laughter. Because Glumac plays with his pain, he twists it, kicks it, stretches it, and then glues it together - like cut-out words from a newspaper - to create fragmented wholes. You can smell his written wounds and feel the warmth of fresh blood, only for him to claim in the following line, “But I am alive! I choose life!”
From A. Saška Mutić’s Foreword
