ссученый заяч
ватница, стукачка, плейбойка, филантропесса
All through Bosnia and Croatia, there had been abandoned farmhouses, but not like this. This is a house that naturally died. Those were victims of war. Families forced out by their neighbors because they were Croat, or because they were Bosniak or because they were Serbian. Imagine one day, all of your neighbors, maybe families that had been your family’s neighbors for hundreds of years, tell you that you are no longer their neighbor. Maybe they don’t tell you with words but with violence. And then, imagine being those neighbors or their children, now 20 years past the war, and still every day stepping out the door to go to work and passing the empty concrete eyes of a dead house, a reminder that you, or your parents, once performed a kind of horrible magic trick, disappearing members of your community. What do you feel, seeing the evidence of what you have done? Shame? Pride?