While strolling in Mostar I look around.
I still remember the news in the 90s, the sad and cruel news that popped into our house during dinner time.
I still remember the news in the 90s, the sad and cruel news that popped into our house during dinner time.
All the family sitting at the table, we watched from behind a screen a war not far from home, but that seemed to be still far away.
I look
around now and I see the signs of bombs on buildings, such as the tear on the beautiful decorations of what once was the first shopping center of the city.
I look
around now and I see the signs of bombs on buildings, such as the tear on the beautiful decorations of what once was the first shopping center of the city.
And I see
bullet holes on the houses that are still there to witness that the war is not something experienced by our grandparents, but it’s recent history … too recent.
bullet holes on the houses that are still there to witness that the war is not something experienced by our grandparents, but it’s recent history … too recent.
I stop to take some photos of these testimonies, but they do not always turn out well.
Or maybe I just do not have that much desire to photograph these wounds, respecting those who lost their lives under those bombs or bullets.
Speaking with the
locals I
realize how
absurd the
war was, this
like many
others.
How strange was on the front line, the central avenue of the city in Mostar case, during the ceasefire: people called eachothers back and forth asking for information of friends and
acquaintances and
then during fire times they shot himself like real strangers.
The boys from both sides were often classmates, neighbors, co-workers …
That’s how I walk through Mostar with a new awareness: too often we are not aware of how valuable a life is.
locals I
realize how
absurd the
war was, this
like many
others.
How strange was on the front line, the central avenue of the city in Mostar case, during the ceasefire: people called eachothers back and forth asking for information of friends and
acquaintances and
then during fire times they shot himself like real strangers.
The boys from both sides were often classmates, neighbors, co-workers …
That’s how I walk through Mostar with a new awareness: too often we are not aware of how valuable a life is.
Mostar is however not only this, or rather is no longer just that.
Until a few years ago, who was visiting this city could find reconstruction sites and war memorabilia for sale in souvenir shops. Today more and more this city is proud to show the fine houses,
whether original or
faithfully rebuilt after the end of bombing.
Until a few years ago, who was visiting this city could find reconstruction sites and war memorabilia for sale in souvenir shops. Today more and more this city is proud to show the fine houses,
whether original or
faithfully rebuilt after the end of bombing.
Follow
me and you’ll soon find out
where to walk, what to visit and where to eat in this charming city that began its rebirth without forgetting the past.
