There are nights that never really leave you. They just change shape, like constellations shifting with time, but always there… waiting for you to look up again.
The first time I remember truly being naked under the stars wasn’t about love or struggle—it was about innocence.
I was a first grader, living near a lake, a tenant in a modest home where life felt simple and endless at the same time. Summer nights had their own rhythm. Kids from the street would gather, dragging pieces of wood to make a small fire right there on the asphalt. No phones, no distractions—just laughter, sparks flying into the dark, and eyes fixed on the sky.
We didn’t need much. A meteor shower was a spectacle, but even on ordinary nights, we searched for falling stars like treasure hunters. Every streak of light carried a wish.
What did we wish for?
Everything.
A new bike.
A trip to the sea.
A dog that would finally get better.
A brother or sister.
A glance from a crush that meant something more.
Our wishes were raw, unfiltered—straight from a child’s heart that didn’t yet know limits. Back then, hope was easy. Natural. Like breathing.
Then life moved.
We left the lake and climbed to another part of the city—a hill where the view stretched wide across the plains. And suddenly, the sky felt bigger. More powerful. At night, it played tricks on the eyes—stars blending with the blinking lights of airplanes, distant wind turbines flickering like something between earth and space.
If you looked far enough, you could imagine the glow of big cities Belgrade and Novi Sad merging with the horizon, as if cities themselves were constellations trying to compete with the sky.
That view did something to me. It expanded my imagination.
It was there that I chose my path—to become a physical education teacher. Ten years followed, a strange but beautiful combination of work and study. Days filled with movement, nights still reserved for thought.
And then came another chapter of being naked under the stars.
On the banks of the Danube, on a sandy beach, not yet 22. A bottle stuck in the sand, laughter carried by the river wind, and her… my first real, unfinished love.
There are friendships from that time that still breathe today—solid, unbreakable. But there was also that first bitter taste, like almonds—unreturned love. Quiet, sharp, unforgettable.
https://unsplash.com/photos/beach-picnic-with-drinks-and-coconut-water-l52PqZh120M
You learn something in those moments.
That being “naked under the stars” is not always about freedom. Sometimes it’s about vulnerability. About standing exposed with your feelings, with no guarantee of return.
Life doesn’t stop, though.
It circles back.
Years later, I found myself sitting in front of my house with my mother. Another summer night. Another meteor shower. Same sky… but everything felt different.
Each falling star carried a new kind of wish.
Not for things.Not even for dreams.
But for time.For that moment to last longer. For those quiet conversations to stretch just a little further into the night.
You realize then—wishes grow up, just like we do.
And then came Klara.
She didn’t just enter my life—she broke the silence in it. She arrived with her five-year-old son, bringing noise, warmth, movement… life. We would sit on the terrace at night, looking at the stars again, talking about tomorrow.
Where will we go?What will we build?
What comes next?This time, being naked under the stars meant something else entirely.
It meant love.
Real, present, shared.
Then came my son.
Then my daughter.
And the sky stayed the same—but I didn’t.
I found myself there again, in that same view. Once with my grandfather and my son. Another time with my son, my wife, and little Anja.
Three generations. One sky.
https://unsplash.com/photos/a-group-of-people-standing-in-front-of-a-night-sky-sh8plCltfZo
And me—still standing there, still looking up, still wishing.
Because life, when you strip it down, is exactly that:a fight for a bare existence under the stars.
But here’s the truth I’ve learned through all those nights:it doesn’t matter how much life hardens you…
It doesn’t matter how many wishes don’t come true…
What matters is that somewhere inside you, those wishes remain the same.
Simple. Honest. Childlike.
Because the moment you stop wishing like that…you stop looking at the sky the way you once did.
And maybe that’s the real magic.
Not whether the stars grant your wish.But that you never stop making one.
https://unsplash.com/photos/silhouette-of-a-person-holding-a-glowing-orb-1LoCgG-AHQU
On Serbian:
Goli pod zvezdama
Postoje noći koje nas nikada zaista ne napuste. Samo menjaju oblik, kao sazvežđa koja se pomeraju s vremenom, ali su uvek tu… čekaju da ponovo podignemo pogled ka nebu.
Prvi put kada se sećam da sam zaista bio go pod zvezdama nije bio vezan za ljubav ili borbu—već za bezbrižnost.
Bio sam prvi razred osnovne škole, živeo blizu jezera, kao podstanar u skromnoj kući gde je život bio jednostavan, a opet beskrajan. Letnje večeri imale su svoj ritam. Sva deca iz ulice bi se okupila, donosili bismo drva i pravili malu vatru nasred ulice. Nije bilo telefona, nije bilo ometanja—samo smeh, varnice koje lete u noć i pogledi uprti ka nebu.
Nije nam trebalo mnogo. Kiša meteora bila je spektakl, ali i običnim noćima smo tražili zvezde padalice kao da su blago. Svaka koja prođe nosila je jednu želju.
A šta smo želeli?
Sve.
Novi bicikl.More tog leta.Da kućni ljubimac ozdravi.Brata ili sestru.
Da nas simpatija pogleda drugačije.
Naše želje bile su čiste, iskrene—iz dečije duše koja još ne poznaje granice. Tada je nada bila laka. Prirodna. Kao disanje.
A onda se život pomerio.
Otišli smo od jezera, preselili se na breg, na drugi kraj grada. Pogled se otvorio—ravnica koja se u letnjim noćima stapala sa nebom. I odjednom, nebo je postalo veće. Moćnije. Maštovitije.
Noću su se zvezde mešale sa svetlima aviona, a negde u daljini treperile su i vetrenjače. Ako bi dovoljno dugo gledao, mogao si da zamisliš kako se svetla velikih gradova Beograda i Novog Sada stapaju sa horizontom, kao da i gradovi žele da budu deo neba.
Taj pogled me je promenio.
Tu sam odlučio da postanem profesor fizičkog vaspitanja. Deset godina života prošlo je u nekoj čudnoj, ali lepoj ravnoteži između rada i studija. Dani puni kretanja, noći i dalje rezervisane za razmišljanje.
I tada dolazi novo poglavlje—ponovo go pod zvezdama.
Na obali Dunava, na pesku, sa nepune 22 godine. Flaša zabodena u pesak, društvo, smeh koji nosi vetar sa reke… i ona. Moja prva velika, neostvarena ljubav.
Iz tog vremena ostala su prijateljstva za ceo život. Ali i prvi gorak ukus poput badema—neuzvraćene ljubavi. Tih, oštar, nezaboravan.
https://unsplash.com/photos/beach-picnic-with-drinks-and-coconut-water-l52PqZh120M
Tada shvatiš nešto.
Da biti „go pod zvezdama“ nije uvek sloboda. Nekad je to ranjivost. Stajanje bez zaštite, sa svim svojim osećanjima, bez garancije da će biti uzvraćena.
Ali život ide dalje.
I vraća te na početak.
Godinama kasnije, sedeo sam ispred kuće sa majkom. Još jedna letnja noć. Još jedna kiša meteora. Isto nebo… ali sve je bilo drugačije.
Svaka zvezda padalica nosila je novu vrstu želje. Ne više stvari. Ne čak ni snove. Već vreme. Da taj trenutak traje duže. Da ti razgovori potraju još malo.
Tada shvatiš—želje odrastaju zajedno sa nama.
A onda je došla Klara.
Nije samo ušla u moj život—razbila je tišinu u njemu. Došla je sa svojim petogodišnjim sinom i donela život, buku, toplinu. Sedeli smo noću na terasi i ponovo gledali zvezde, pričajući o sutrašnjem danu.
Gde ćemo ići?Šta ćemo graditi? Šta nas čeka?
Ovog puta, biti go pod zvezdama značilo je nešto drugo.Značilo je ljubav.Pravu, prisutnu, zajedničku.
Onda je došao sin. Pa ćerka.
A nebo je ostalo isto—ali ja više nisam bio.
Ponovo sam stajao na istom mestu. Jednom sa dedom i sinom. Drugi put sa sinom, ženom i malom Anjom.
Tri generacije. Jedno nebo.
https://unsplash.com/photos/a-group-of-people-standing-in-front-of-a-night-sky-sh8plCltfZo
A ja sam i dalje tu, i dalje gledam gore, i dalje želim.
Jer kada ogoliš život do kraja, ostane samo to:borba za goli život pod zvezdama.
Ali ono što sam naučio kroz sve te noći je:nije važno koliko te život očvrsne…nije važno koliko želja se ne ostvari…
Važno je da negde u tebi te želje ostanu iste.
Jednostavne. Iskrene. Dečije.
Jer onog trenutka kada prestaneš tako da želiš tada prestaneš da gledaš u nebo kao nekad.
A možda je u tome prava čarolija.
Ne u tome da li će se želja ostvariti.Već u tome da je nikada ne prestaneš želeti.
https://unsplash.com/photos/silhouette-of-a-person-holding-a-glowing-orb-1LoCgG-AHQU
