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Articles tagged "Bosnian War"

The Ghosts are Schrödinger Cats

It was one of those evenings when the world was coming off its hinges, and once again, who knows why, someone decided to be unwise enough to care for it so that it wouldn’t. I stood in the armory next to small, deeply embedded Gothic windows and, looking through the lead, mullioned glass (which looked like it was made from the bottoms of bottles), tried to see what was happening outside the castle doors. As a waterfall thundered down over the gables, bringing with it pieces of slate...

Episode #18 of “Joseph and His Brothers”

The world is a vast tapestry, and everything in it happens at random. There are no laws, no rules. Chance determines the place each of us holds. In the weaving we are the warp and the knots, and, with an elusive logic, with even some semblance of order though, perhaps, order of a higher kind, these lines are ever crisscrossing and diverging, weaving in and out. There is balance at times in the weaving. For no one thread can be pulled taut and woven in until another thread is unwoven and...

from The Scent of Wheat

Monologue for the Stage A Tragicomedy * Dedicated to a great poet, who understands that despite Sarajevo, life offers something more than death. * Darkness. In the distance the sound of airplanes is heard in ever increasing volume. The scream of sirens, shortly thereafter the sound of bombs pummeling the ground. Noise, terrible noise. Suddenly silence. Children's voices from off-stage. Girl: I'm scared. Boy: Scaredy-cat. It's already over. You don't...

Theft

In our garden there was an apple tree whose mouth-watering fruits could be seen from the upstairs window of the house next door. Our neighbors, Rade and Jela, used to go to the market to buy apples for their two young daughters--but it was no use. However delicious, other apples were never as tempting as the ones that were visible from the family's window. Each morning, as soon as Rade and Jela left for work, the girls would jump over the garden fence in order to pick the overripe...

from Silence Has Its Sound: Travels through Bosnia

Crossing the Serbian Republic's Border Most of the Republika Srpska border is made of garbage--it seems the whole town of Stolac brings its trash here. I meet three oncoming cars in fifty kilometers. The village of Malineja is marked on the German Automobile Club map, but the reality is that it's completely wiped out. Nature is a little too unspoiled for me, and so I turn up the music in the car full blast to remind me that there's a Somewhere Else. Lisbon, for instance,...

Cactus

She was always afraid of missing the beautiful and important things in life. She traveled a lot, but more often she panicked because she was stuck at home. For some reason she always imagined that real happiness and pleasure lay elsewhere. As a result she was forever thinking up new ways of stopping time and grasping that crystal moment when life becomes a dream or a fairy tale. Suddenly, at the end of December 1990, she told me she longed to spend New Year's Eve on the island of...
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