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- Tuzla of My Youth, Foreword

Quite unexpectedly, but silently and steadily, the town started to sink. Clearly, it did not sink equally everywhere, nor in all its parts. This was an endless subterranean and insidious destruction. It usually started with doors or windows not being able to close, some cracks would appear, and plaster and mortar would start falling off. ‘In the evening we closed  []

- Tuzla of My Youth, At Goli Brijeg

The outskirts of our town were not always easily accessible, especially if we did not have any friends or cousins there. They seemed infinitely far away and unfamiliar. Once you cross the Jala wooden bridge, below the Kulovićes’ house or above the Fire Station, following the street along the Jala, to the left you move up the hill where Goli  []

- An Old Tourist in the New Bosnia

Once, before the war, we heard a great deal about how beautiful and wealthy our country was. We listened to stories about how nice it was to spend springtime at the sea, summer at Lake Bled, and winter on the ski slopes of the Slovene and Bosnian mountains. Working people listened coolly to stories of this natural beauty that was  []