Looking at Miholjevine
She came to me when I wasn't expecting it; just before the sun disappears behind the mountain, up there in Miholjevine.
She showed me her village, on the other side. I barely saw a few charred walls and gutted roofs, wrecks washed up in an ocean of vegetation…She took me by the hand. She made me hear the children's laughter, she made me smell the pita in the brick oven.
Her face suddenly got more serious. I could read in the hollow of her wrinkles stories of ghosts, exhausted, in their march towards Tuzla.
Finally, she smiled at me, that benevolent and amused smile of a mother who had not seen her son for so long ... In her gaze, she transmitted this immense freedom that she draws from her faith. She is beautiful. It has been, and always will be.
I didn't ask for her name. I have always known her. Her name is Bosnia.
For my brother, Ahmed.
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My name is Bosnia
Unknown lady, met on top on the Liplje mountain.
October 2020.
Mujo Muminovic.
Konjevic Polje, October 2020.
Ramo, uncle of Fahrudin.
Urkovici, October 2020.
Aisha, Fahrudin's uncle wife.
Urkovici, October 2020.
Children waiting for Mars Mira commemoration's walkers.
Kravica hills, July 2020.
Stoborani farmer,
July 2020.
Dragomir,
Romanija mountains, October 2020.
Dragan,
Orahovac, October 2020.
Jugoslav fled Bosnia just after the war started.
Drinjaca, October 2020.
Sidik, genocide survival.
Šušnjari, October 2020.
Jovan Divjak, former general in charge of the defense of Sarajevo.
October 2020.
A fortune teller once told Jovan when he would die. With humor and pure defiance of fate, he wrote down the number of days left to live on each page of his agenda.
October 2020.
Mother of Srebrenica.
Potocari memorial, July 2020.