My last day in Sarajevo I fell victim to the devilled Black Ice. For those unfamiliar, black ice is a patch of thin ice masquerading as a harmless puddle, designed solely to send hapless fools hurtling toward the cold harsh earth. Continue reading “Week 13 – Under the Umbrian Super Moon”
The streets here are littered with divots in the concrete, splashed with red paint and framed. They are the Roses of Sarajevo and they are scars in the ground from the explosions of mortar shells during the war and serve as a monument to the innocent lives that were lost in that spot. As the asphalt of the city gets slowly replaced the roses disappear, but the memory of the very recent war will take much longer to die out. Continue reading “Week 12 – Roses are Red, Violence is Blue”
After I emerged from the bus after 29 hours I felt like a butterfly escaping the cocoon, except more like a moth and even probably more like a prolapsing organ. Continue reading “Week 11 – Eye Heart Sarajevo”
Actually, Harry 