REFUGEE

Almasa, a woman already not young, a woman daily growing less Bosnian but not becoming more Swedish, a woman with irrepressible memories of violence, a woman looking for intimacy and home, writes, 'It didn't happen in a day. It wasn't a spontaneous reaction of anguished souls that rushed into our ho [...]
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Almasa, a woman already not young, a woman daily growing less Bosnian but not becoming more Swedish, a woman with irrepressible memories of violence, a woman looking for intimacy and home, writes, 'It didn't happen in a day. It wasn't a spontaneous reaction of anguished souls that rushed into our homes like starving dogs to devour our provisions.

Nothing like that. At least not in my hometown. Bosnia is a small country, but the war had many faces. The stories of its every man, woman and child make a ladder to the moon of suppressed memories.'