Pass through this city, quickly, in the dark.

April 6, 2008

Its 4 in the morning. Snows falls, blankets of snow fall and cover the city. The bus reaches the outskirts and starts turning in the empty streets. The Serbian driver speeds up. The little Bosniak and her French boyfriend are still asleep. The city is also sleeping. No light in the windows, no shops open, no pedestrians walking the streets. Perfect conditions for someone to look carefully for the ghosts of the city before the day push them back in their nest.

Looking carefully you will notice themresisting time in their unnoticable nobility. Bullet holes in the walls, burned buildings in the devaluated districts, the remnants of the city’s library standing silent, windows and gates sealed. The city’s wounds are closed, but still ache.

The little Bosniak wakes up. Her friend instictivly responds to her moving body. Both get worries at the same time, both speaking to each other at the same time while sleep claims a last second of their time. Both try to persuade the driver to stop and let them out. This is their city, they have arrived.
But they speak to him in vain. He has not seen the city but only its ghosts, thus he is rushing away from the fear and repulsion he feels because of them. Its too dangerous to look at the city if you do not belong to it. The driver’s fear jumps out the window and spreads along the city, illustrating its many divisions and boundaries for the unaware passanger.

He only stops when he crosses the boundaries where his fears can not follow. The little Bosniak and her friend are let free up on the hill, only to walk back to their city while it awakes to welcome them.

The first tram making the first trip of the day empty. The first coffee and tea drunk by the city’s unfortunate workers in pleasure of home’s warmth before facing the nastily prolonged winter. The city’s first smile who banishes all of the ghosts once again.

The little Bosniak and her friend are smily again. This is their city and they call it Sarajevo. Its got a history they respect when they tell you but despise when they remember about.

Now the city opens up its gates to welcome the stranger. Beatifull women walk through its promenades, young people make dreams stronger than their parents memories, laid back boys and girls share an endless moment of fun.

The city is still alive but the driver is already gone, never to return and fight his fears.

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