I realize that I only have words and that, from time to time, as I hold them in my arms I am less lonely.
How is a woman to tell the story of her life and not stumble upon men?
Europe has another meaning for me. Every time I mention that word, I see the Bosnian family in front of me, living far away from whatever they call home and eating their own wonderful food because that's all that is left for them. The fact remains that after fifty years, it was possible to have another war in Europe; that it was possible to change borders; that genocide is still possible even today.
Every public space is like a billboard, with messages from the collective subconscious of the nation. There one can read passivity, rage indifference, fear, double standards, subversion, bad economy, a twisted definition of 'public' itself, the whole Weltanschauung - an entire range of emotions and attitudes is exposed.
To have a son in wartime is the worst curse that can befall a mother, no matter what anyone says.
