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May 18th, 99 My heart and mind is with the young soldiers I know in Kosovo: every hour the war goes on I see them more dead: as if they are already dead but their death not yet acknowledged. Half of them were sent to war by their parents, as I would have been had I been male and younger, or if not by their parents then by their lack of life options: The Legion of Foreigners. Two o'clock a.m.: I walk through Belgrade in complete darkness: nobody is around. I feel blind, I see nothing but I know my street, the holes on the road, the cracked pavement, the low trees and angry dogs behind the gates...I make my way as if in a wood, under alarm, thinking of the young soldiers, sons of my friends I saw grow up, feeling close to them...I feel guilty. My friend, a university professor, now at home : no more schools here, only war training...found her old father, grown senile in the past few weeks on the ledge of their balcony: she pulled him back as a big baby, with strength she didn't know she had. She takes care of him as of a big baby, or a big dog. He is not aware anymore that he is a human being or who else he might be: he found his way out of this hell. We are trying to present all texts in all languages. However, due to a limited resources we are not always able to achieve this goal. If you would like to translate material for us, please contact us. |
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