I am announcing my second book, The Spell of AI - A World without a Pause, which will be released soon. This book will be available in three languages: English, Macedonian, and Albanian.
I wrote this book because something in me refused to settle for the surface of things. I found myself watching the world grow louder, quicker, more certain, while the quiet spaces I once relied on began to vanish. I missed the feeling of lingering in a question, of letting doubt shape the day, of trusting that not every silence needed to be filled.
The Spell of AI - A World without a Pause is my answer to that longing. This is not a book of instructions or predictions. It is a search for what slips away when every moment is accounted for, when every thought is interrupted, when we forget how to wait for the unexpected.
Below is a glimpse inside: the opening pages, where this book begins.
Introduction
I wrote The AI Journey in 2024, during a moment when the world seemed simultaneously fascinated and overwhelmed by artificial intelligence. The questions people asked back then were practical: What is this technology? Can I use it? Will it take my job? That book was my attempt to offer something simple, honest, and useful, a kind of map for those stepping into this unfamiliar territory for the first time.
But somewhere between then and now, the questions changed.
Today, the air feels heavier. The signals are louder. There’s more information than ever and less clarity. People no longer ask what AI is. They ask what it’s doing to them. They ask why their feeds feel so hollow. Why their students no longer trust their own thoughts. Why the truth seems so distant, so blurred, so negotiable.
And I’ve been asking those same questions.
This is not a follow-up to The AI Journey. It is something else entirely. Not a guide, not a manual, not a list of tools. This book doesn’t care whether you use ChatGPT or not. It isn’t here to help you become more efficient. It’s here to look at what efficiency is costing us. It’s here to explore the fracture, the subtle, spreading crack between what we see and what is, between what we know and what we feel, between what we are and what we are becoming.
I’ve spent the past two decades working in technology. I’ve built systems, trained professionals, advised NGOs, spoken to students, journalists, artists, and decision-makers. I’ve seen people light up with curiosity and shut down with confusion. I’ve watched as automation became default, as surveillance became ambient, as knowledge gave way to convenience. And I’ve lived, like you, through a time where everything speeds up, but understanding slows down.
I’m writing this book not from a lab, not from a stage, but from Skopje. From a place that understands uncertainty. From a region that has survived disinformation long before the internet learned how to automate it. From the Balkans, where memory is fragile, history is political, and identity is always something worth defending.
This is not a neutral book. It is personal. It is regional. It is written in a voice that refuses to be flattened by hype or silenced by inevitability.
If The AI Journey opened the door, this book asks what we’ve let in.
And if you’ve ever felt that something is shifting, not just in machines, but in us, then this book is yours too.
Let’s begin.
Part I – The New Reality
Chapter One The Signal and the Noise
At a workshop in Skopje, a young journalist looked at me and said: “If I don’t use ChatGPT, I fall behind. But if I do, I don’t trust what I’m writing.” She wasn’t afraid of AI. She was afraid of what it was doing to her voice. That’s when I knew this isn’t about tools. It’s about something deeper.
It began, not with a bang, but with a whisper disguised as clarity.
Every morning we wake into a flood. Notifications blink before our eyes have fully opened. Messages arrive before thoughts do. News, half-news, almost-news layered in endless threads, each insisting it matters. And somewhere in all of it, something quieter begins to happen: the dull erosion of our ability to tell what’s worth knowing from what’s simply loud.
We call this progress.
We speak of artificial intelligence as if it is a mirror: neutral, clean, inevitable. But mirrors don’t decide what to reflect. Systems do. Design does. And more and more, the systems we live inside are designed not to inform us, but to predict us, not to enlighten, but to hold us in place.
At first, it feels like empowerment. Answers arrive instantly. Summaries save time. Recommendations feel helpful. The algorithm “knows you.” It learns your taste, your politics, your tone. But the truth is it doesn’t know you at all. It knows how to hold your attention. That’s not the same thing.
We are not overloaded with information. We are being fed signals: curated, optimized, delivered with precision. But signals without grounding become noise. And noise without meaning becomes a kind of violence. Not the loud, visible kind. The quiet one, the kind that replaces reflection with reaction, depth with speed.
And so we scroll. We accept. We react. We repeat.
We consume so much and understand so little.
Personal Reflections
If you’ve read this far, you probably feel it too, the subtle ache that something essential is quietly slipping away beneath the surface of our digital lives.
This book is not a call to abandon technology or fear the future. It’s a call to remember what it means to be present, to protect the spaces where doubt, wonder, and real thought can still take root. The spell of AI is powerful, but it is not absolute. Beneath the noise, the signal is still there, waiting for us to listen, to pause, to reclaim what makes us human.
If you long for meaning that can’t be optimized, for questions that can’t be answered in a prompt, for a world where silence is not absence but possibility, I hope you’ll join me on this journey. Let’s remember together that not everything must be absorbed, and sometimes, the most important signal is the one we almost forgot how to hear.
The Spell of AI - A World without a Pause is an invitation to reclaim the pause, the space where real thought, connection, and presence can still take root.