Irvin Jalom (autor)
Zbirka deset uzbudljivih priča poznatog psihoterapeuta Irvina D. Jaloma otkriva misterije, frustracije, patos i humor u srcu terapeutskih seansi. Pripovijedajući o dilemama svojih pacijenata, Jalom nam ne daje samo rijedak i očaravajući uvid u njihove lične želje i motivacije, već, takođe, pripovijeda i svoju sopstvenu priču iz ugla terapeuta: svoj pokušaj da izmiri svoje suviše ljudske reakcije sa senzibilitetom koji bi svaki psihijatar trebalo da posjeduje. Malo je ko, još od Frojdovog vremena, pokušao da prikaže sa toliko jasnoće i otvorenosti ono što se zbiva između psihoterapeuta i pacijenta iza zatvorenih vrata.
Ostali naslovi koji sadrže ključne reči: Psihoterapija , Jalom , Joga
Ostali naslovi iz oblasti: Pripovetke
Izdavač: Kosmos; 2. izdanje, 2023; Broširani povez; latinica; 20 cm; 286 str.; 978-86-7470-683-1;
Lena’s hands shook as she closed the lid. The license key software uninstalled itself. The brass chip in her pocket crumbled to fine, odorless dust.
“What are you willing to break?” she whispered.
Her finger hovered. The brass chip grew warm in her pocket.
She pressed .
Lena closed the laptop. Outside, the city hummed with all the broken things waiting to be healed. And somewhere, a man with no shadow was already pouring two glasses, knowing she’d be back.
The machine before her—the Lenze Mechatronic Core i700 —was supposed to be dead. Burned logic board, fried encoder interface, a cascade fault that three senior engineers had signed off as total economic loss . But Lena had heard it whisper. On the night shift, with the factory silent except for the drip of steam from the overhead pipes, she’d pressed her ear to its cold steel housing and heard a faint, rhythmic click.
Not a fault. A language.
She hadn’t slept in 48 hours. The key hadn’t come from corporate, from procurement, or from the labyrinthine ticketing system she’d been fighting for six months. It had come from a man with no shadow, in a bar that didn’t exist on any map, who’d slid a brass chip across the counter and said, “You want to fix the unfixable? Use this. But it’ll ask you what you’re willing to break.”
She ran a full diagnostic. Every component checked out. The encoder read with micron precision. The logic board—the one she’d personally seen cracked and blackened—was pristine.
The machine shuddered. Lights flickered across the factory floor—not just on the Lenze, but on every drive, every servo, every forgotten PLC in the building. A low hum rose to a keen, and for one terrible second, Lena felt the past year peel backward: the divorce, the misdiagnosis, the day she’d taken this job because it was 300 miles away from everything she’d loved and lost. lenze engineer license key
The license key unlocked a menu she’d never seen:
The terminal blinked green for exactly 1.3 seconds—a heartbeat of approval. Lena exhaled, her reflection ghosting over the cascade of code.
She smiled and said nothing. But that night, alone in her apartment, she opened her laptop. The Lenze software was back to demo mode. blinked at her, patient and empty. Lena’s hands shook as she closed the lid
She thought of the line—the high-speed bottling line that hadn’t run in three weeks. Fourteen thousand units a shift lost. The maintenance manager’s daughter had leukemia; his distraction had caused the original misdiagnosis. No one knew. Lena had covered for him because he’d once let her sleep in his office after her divorce, when she had nowhere else to go.