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Archive for July, 2008

…Sitting in the office, alone, at night, after the shamefull rally that has just taken place in my city… I miss Sarah’s presence to discuss what/who (the hell) is crowling around Belgrade streets and what is its/their vision of future? “Who” refers to the Radicals and “what” to the flow of self-un-aware crowed, Radicals united into an ugly river that’s alive and canibal, considering human origins of it… So, I wonder, what is the furute they/it see(s)? Do they/does it have options of desired future and the one they/it fear(s)?

This cloud is a portal to a paralel universe, or radical paradise, in which all freedoms become one ultimate freedom, the freedom of Karadzic

This cloud is a portal to a paralel universe, or radical paradise, in which all freedoms become one ultimate freedom, the freedom of Karadzic

Events like this rally bring out the worst in me: I look at an other human, wondering how come he/she manages to talk, when I would call him/her “it” and expect “it” to bark.

-OBJECTION! -Sustained!

-OBJECTION! -Sustained!

I admit my schovinist thoughts, but on whom? On political opponents? About 99% of the people in my city are my political opponents, yet they do not provoke such bare and savage ideas in my head… only this canibal river does it, Radicals phisically joined together in public. Luckilly, I work on my own thoughts and deconstruct them, until I repeat for 10 times: “a human being that not only denies war crimes, but cheers to them, is a human being too”. How does it sound? Radically stupid, yet true.

I cannot bring myself to see the future with Radicals' eyes, this is as far as I keep getting...

I cannot bring myself to see the future with Radicals' eyes, this is as far as I keep getting...

And who is to help them all see? And where are the laws that will make them censor their mind before they speak it, spreading hatrage, (historic) lies, neonationalistic spirit, insults and threats to others? And why do times like these last days bring the image that there is “them” (in schovinist words “it”)/Radicals, and “us”/the rest? Another of my personal impressions: whenever there is one clearely defined category (of people) that makes a strong public appearance, by simply refering shortly to that category as “them”, it is suggested that there is also “us”. Now, this division doesn’t match my taste at all. Why would I allow “them” to put me into any category, especially “us” category, when “they” haven’t even been smart enough to premeditate it, they actually just have the instinct to attack when they feel threatened (an act rather close to life in wild nature, definitly distant to ways of acting in cultivated areas)? It reminds me of the united front against Milosevic in which “we” were all together, that kind of “us”. What a good desguise for all sort of frauds! How many of “them” can actually intrude among “us”? More precisely: how many of “us” belong to “them”, willingly or not? I don’t want to share any togetherness with people who believe that Karadzic should be convicted because only then we (including “them”) will stand a chance for better economic standard with all potential foreign investments! “Us” doesn’t exist. Not all of the people who stayed at home with the intention to avoid the rally are on the same side! There is more then nuances that devide us: some were “victims” of Milosevic regime and are “hostages” of war criminals, some do not care at all and believe that they are not political (what a luxuory, living in an agressor state!), some were thinking of going but they went to another party, some went to Church to pray for Karadzic and Mladic and light a candle for Milosevic (even though not 29th of February, this was an important day for Serb nation), and some were, may St. Sloba forgive me, plotting against their own Serbian tribe, by knowing facts about Serbian ellectoral will during the past 17 years, by following up events/spying, denouncing, betraying, like I do. And: Oh boy, do I get well payed for it, or what!(Curtosy of NATO)

After several hours of Radicals, this time streets looked clean. Same people, different outcome to February, after all...

After several hours of Radicals, this time streets looked clean. Same people, different outcome to February, after all...

One thing is sure: who ever stayed at home, had a good chance to watch one of the TV shows inspired by Karadzic’s identity game! As I was leaving my place, late at night, to come here where I can use the Internet, there was an outstanding piece on Studio B/public TV station of the city. The piece consisted of many proffesionals giving their expertize on forging identity, from looks and styling, then character and personality, to gaining fully new documents! On Karadzic example, they practically revealed a recepy how to do it, underlining every week point of security in our system of paper, documents, ID cards and passport production, also of ways of issueing them! Is that analytic journalism (wich vanishes when it comes to researching corruption, organized crime, financial backgrounds of major political parties, ties and bonds between polititians and mob etc.) or is that just opportunistic and radically stupid? Karadzic has become a trend setter – many are getting into alternative medicine, many consider changing their looks radically (stupid or not), many are intreegued by doctor’s mind able to so easily adopt a new self, so they are wondering if they could do it too (romantic, ah?). Karadzic is also setting trends in journalism: new identity, or a double – no more, no less, to get more audience attention.

The roumor says that Ratko Mladic became a construction worker, in Vracar, Belgrade...

The roumor says that Ratko Mladic became a construction worker, in Vracar, Belgrade...

Who is this?

Who is this?

It surely is all about trends and sell aways. Karadzic arrest has created a Karadzic brand. It is so simple. Even I have met more then one person, here, in my country, who have more names or change them as often as socks (I’m not telling the secret how often we change socks in our Serb cultural heritage and customs, nor weather we have accepted changing socks as a higyenical necessity). ID story is not exclusive at all, in itself. What’s exclusive is that Radovan Karaszic did it. So it’s in, it’s a sell, sold product. That is why the show I explained, the piece on Studio B, was possible: it reveals no big secret, no news to potential paper forgery, because those who want that business have actually had it for years! What remains is to cash the products of Karadzic brand: alternative medicine, documentary and fiction production of ID stories in all media, new (hairy and more hairy) looks, myth about a doctor who wrote books (this one was just to rhyme, although Radovan wrote several plays), maybe prices of real estate in my neighbourhood go up again (they have already reached mythical – radically stupid – sizes!) because, hey, if the quater was good enough for Radovan… while nothing is changing, while Radicals are so arogantly and ignorantly making everybody else “the rest”/”us”/the most suspicious category with many holding more identities then one…

Detail of one nice house in the now famous part of town...

Detail of one nice house in the now famous part of town...

And how about the freequent fals alarms? During the past year, more and more often different institutions/buildings/objects are falsely being alarmed with annonimous calls (lack of identity is more dangerous then double) announcing that there is a bomb set to explode. I haven’t seen one serious TV show on that issue – noone bothered to investigate and research on who and why is making such calls. Until the first bomb explodes.

boom!

boom!

Photos by: Jelena Markovic

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“The state runs the street events in Serbia these days”, to quote myself from one of the previous posts, concerning Karadzic arrest as second, and Kosova independance as first big political events in Serbia’s political life this year of international importance.

In that same article, I made it clear that Premier Kostunica runs the state in a faithfull way to the heritage of Milosevic regime. I also smuggled in the idea (for those who read between the lines) that the existance of Democratic party of the President Tadic, more creates an illusion of having the opposite political mainstream to Kostunica’s nationalism (which is openly getting closer and closer to the Radical party /Seselj/Nikolic/ ideas), then it really opposes Kostunica. The warm-cold relation of Kostunica and Tadic I named a “media marriage” some years ago, because no matter how much Tadic would represent more liberal and democratic option, by its moderate character, that option was not to far from Kostunica’s, and each time Tadic would oppose Kostunica, some “higher cause” would tie them into a common statement, a common attitude, a coherent stand point of Serbia’s officials in front of the international comunity. Kostunica was the strong one in that game, and Tadic a disapointment to true democrates. Never the less, united they stood too many times over too many issues. And now we have the situation of Tadic being under death threats because of the Karadzic arrest and his inevitable delivery to the Hague Tribunal. Let me remind us: all officials, including Kostunica, were repeatedly claiming to the West that Serbia was doing its best to cooperate with the Tribunal in the Hague and to capture and deliver Serbian wanted war criminals.

So how shall I comprehend the situation in which Tadic is put under severe death threats, and Kostunica is not? Even the blind can see that threats come from the part of the Radicals. Radical party members do not miss a chance to prove it in every public speach or statement they give these days. Why Tadic? Hasn’t he played a decent role in not preventing Kostunica’s retrograde politics ever? Was it all together not working in favour of the will of Kostunica and the Radicals? In fact it was.

There are several possible answers to the main question: Why is Tadic picked to be threatened? One would be that the game is just going on, and we are led to believe that there is some crucial disagreement between Kostunica and Tadic. This answer would offer a safe future to Tadic, in case he himself is aware of it, as part of an open deal or silent understanding, where everybody keeps their roles, and the built up tension makes the fals division into less and more democratic options stronger, or helps the illusion live on. Yet, death threats in Serbia are never to be undermined! Too many political executions or murders have been commited not just in the past, in the 90ies, but also after the democratic changes! The brutal assassination of Premier Djindjic is more then enough to consider each threath seriously.

Now, I cannot resist mentioning that another politician has been not only threatened after the changes, but there have been some attempts to in fact murder him just before the changes! He was the number one for execution after Djindjic, by the same forces and political streams inspiring those forces that commited Djindjic assassination. That politician is Cedomir Jovanovic. In times of the attempt to murder him, the public issue became not the safety of his and his family’s lives, but “how did he get that expensive jeep that was blown up with a bomb?” So, instead of investigating on who tried to kill him, authorities and police instructed citizens to mind Jovanovic’s economic standard! Ofcourse, Jovanovic had no media access nor opportunity at that time to say “hey, let’s talk about the danger I am exposed to and see who is trying to kill me”, not to speak about his lack of possibility to tell to public that he had very fiew belongings, and that for safety reasons he was driving borowed cars, changing them regularely as well as places of his residence, all offered by his friends or other Democratic party members (he was in Djinjinn’s party then), just to protect his family’s lives and his own! After the democratic changes, the preasure on him never stopped, yet never became a public concern, although he was in Djindjic’s government and threatened openly as the next one for execution! Jovanovic still doesn’t have the permanent residence, since threats never stopped. So he and his family move around from one house to an other all the time through out the years, to stay alive, which never became public concern! He left the Democratic Party and formed Liberal Democratic Party, still small, yet atracking most progressiv civic, liberal, democratic and socialdemocratic oriented prominent political names and leaders, as well as educated young generation left oriented and willing to start the process of dealing with the past/war crimes and dealing with organized crime in Serbia.

Why is the years long death treath or a campaign for murdering Cedomir Jovanovic atracting less publicity then these days threats to Tadic? Again, threats to Tadic may be another game instructed by Kostunica, with the same purpose to prove that there is an opponent to him and to the right wing (formal or informal) coalition, and that that opponent is strong and supported with a lot of voters. The question that remains is: how much Tadic himself is taking knowledge in this game of Kostunica? Does he really feel threatened, or is he aware that this campaign is reestablishing old false division, the invented dilema Democratic party or Democratic pary of Serbia? If there was a straight answer to that, we would know already the outcome. In any way, we would know weather the “media marriage” is still on, or divorced.

But that I cannot tell just yet. I repeat, threats with political assassinations are not a joke in Serbia. My opinion is, though, that these intensive threats are designed to strengthen the myth of deep differences among the two democratic parties (or so called democratic), after all.

I do not end here. I think I find Kostunica’s logics transparent by now. Even by purposly using the occasion to once again promote the Democratic party as his opponent, and even if the Democrates are aware of it and wellcome it for the sake of their own image of softer political option (which it is only declaratevly, in result, let’s face it!), and even though this partnership suits both sides, in this once upon a time “Cohabitation” as Tadic named it, I keep wondering: how far will Kostunica let it go this time? I wouldn’t be surprised if Kostunica sacrifyes his paravan and lets Tadic hit the bullet! This prognozes is the darkest of all, but provides Kostunica with the main and only position among the big parties (or both) that carriy the name Democratic, wich in itself may easily include the sudden distance to the hard core right wing Radicals, (why not make new coalitions with the minor parties that he can easily swollow), and thus insures himself the main negotiating position wanted and recognized by the West. Shortly, he would become what Milosevic was in his glory times: the guarantee of stability in the region! This may not be a short time intention, but a long, slow, sly plan. Well announced, too, providing time to hide facts and traces – even I in this text of assumption haven’t named any, I was just following the logics of Kostunica that I know! What a future?

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No metter how much I fight to be my own, there’s always a soul or two who beilieve they own me. Moments shared remain only mine, when we look back. My past. Recent, or distant. Recent, but distant. I shared, yet I was my own. So I do here what noone would advise, among the bloggers. Nevertheless, I’ve exposed myself in my work always. This blogging thing is work to me, too. My stories, opinions, images I make or stand in, or both. And this piece is in the practical advise corner, which will make sense.

I wasn't even ment to share this moment. He was just there, capturing it, on my terrace.

I wasn't even ment to share this moment. He was just there, capturing it, on my terrace.

I was strugling to remain a good host to someone I couldn’t trust anymore. That is when I realised how suffocating the issue of belonging is: you want out. He/she postpones the issue. There is always some mediocre story of “Inconvinient moment”, “Not now, give me more time before we talk”, and a big “What would others say?” behind it.

I did mechanically usual things...

I did mechanically usual things...

Usual things bring in some false calm, some illusion of promise that time sits still, that proccesses in my head are not rapidly taking place. Illusion I never offered. Instead, I openly stated that my knowledge of life and a current situation are neither sitting, nor still. The fact that I was begged for more time before facing the change only provoked pityfull, yet repulsive ideas. This is already a practical, if not advize, then warning: ordinary things are not always ordinary. If you want to see them as such even when you are warned you are wrong, it is your responsability, your choice. Never transfer your own denial onto your partner. You will then forever waste the opportunity to learn about yourself.

A sharp eye can tell, i do not trust the person beside me

A sharp eye can tell, i do not trust the person beside me

See the arm grabing me to prove I (still) belong? See the pride in his expression, the well learned pose in dealing with problems, or loss, the convinced look he is getting it all back together? And see the look in my eyes full of mistrust? I am not there, my pose tells, the fact I do not embrace back screams out I am away, I feel wrong in this imposed togetherness. This picture tells a lot, if you really look at it. This picture tells the end has come. See it, or do not see it, the choice is yours.

In my favourite house of all houses in the world

In my favourite house of all houses in the world

At my grand mother’s. Feeling alien to the person who came along, I felt even more connected to my favourite house in the world: the present becoming past will not be the only past, and my childhood past is so strong, memories of moments in this house are so alive, I am happy! Already alone, betrayed, hurt, with a knife stick in my hart just some days ago, I am happy! Because I know and acknowledge, and learn so much while moving on. One more time after this time, I brought along a different somebody to share my paradise with. It was another wrong move. So no more sharing. No more belonging. No more offering to people to misinterpret sharing for having. Especialy in my case, when all those men that stormed through my life, wanted to be me, in a way; certainly the absurdety of such desire led into desire to dominate, and that then led to ending. The house helped me live through both times. The hosue of my life, the best house!

My favourite window

My favourite window

From personal experience, I advise one should know her or his favourite window. This, on the photo above, is mine. It is in my favourite house, too. That doesn’t have to be the case for everybody. In my case, it is so. The view at the window already thrills me, because I know its rich, beutiful, soul feeding offerings! Oh how happy I am to just see my window! Then I put away the curton, and I smoothly open it, and – boom! World’s beauty overwelms me! I know I have that window, and when I am not in the house for a long time, I concentrate strongly and bring myself to my window, i lean on it, look out, and contemplate. This experience has been a life saviour, to me, more then one time. So, find your favourite window, it is so healing!

top of my hill

top of my hill

A special place is important to heal our souls from suffering, humiliation, difficulties we go through. I have more then one place. But is this top of the hill liberating, oh my! I mean, the whole walk in the hill and the woods of my family, but I particularely love the top of the hill. When I chose my favourite places, I do not coose them by beauty. I select them by how I connect to them. And beside the childhood that allowed me long stays in my favourite house, with my favourite window, and favourite hills to walk with one favourite top, which altogether brought me so many happy memories, a feeling of rest, comprihension of love, sky full of stars, questions about universe and the begining of time, curiosity, exploring, I connect with my favourite places on other levels too. With this particular place, I connect by eternal communication with my grandfateher. He died, 12 years ago, indeed. But I do talk to him, and I can tell him and ask him everything. He gives me answers and leaves me my freedom, like nobody else. I love him so much. And I miss him, his presence in earthly ways. Yet I connect with him, and he connects me with this place of my freedom. The house, the window, the hill and my grand father helped me live through both failures of love attempts, that got to get there with me. Practical advise: try to find a place, where you will be so happy, your soul fed with love, to be as strong and free as I am on the photo above, eventhough you could equaly be dieing from the pain that you have been given! Find it!

part of the road

my favourite house

Here I will not use many words. The sight of this house brings me to tears, because I cannot believe that I was given the joys of this house, the paradise around it, the love, love, love, love!

the road I take

the road I take

I always walk this road. Occasionally, I get lost. Then I look for, I crawl, I weep, until I get back on it again. That is for me the road of freedom, the road of life, the way to go. It is not comfortable, nor concrete. It is – you see it – some though field to walk on. Partialy, it symbolizes what or who I am, and why I remain on the margine: who wouldn’t abbandone a female who choosese hard ways rather then easy ones? Who thinks and doesn’t sell thoughts away to keep company? Who gives and gives and never asks for anything, yet is tricky enough to expect? Who accepts solitude, rather then makes compromise that all sides are equaly to blame in all wars? Who doesn’t buye the bullshit story that the era of equal opportunities has long time begun? Who doesn’t agree that women are, after all, not ment to take part in purely mens’ affairs? See, this road is hard, you have to walk it, step by step. No car, forget it. I advize you, chose for the road that will represent your values that you will not give up. (If you follow my advize, do not necessarely chose for the same road, and then blame it on me! I’m not saying my life is paradise. On the contrary, my life is closer to hell. But I make that choice, because I always want to know, never to deny. My side is the side of the knowledge, others, mainly men, are on the side of official truth / here official doesn’t stand for definite nor real/. So help yourself – I advize, you take it or leave it.)

the monster

the monster

I know what I know. No friend will, by being emotionally close, change the facs I know. By friend I refer to both girlfriends and boyfriends, and there are points where they cannot take me any more, even though the begining of the relationship is usually filled with deep admiration from the other part to my personality. Many where crying while admitting it, putting me high above themselves, only to eventually start killing me, symbolically, for my same values so admired at the start! One of the triggers for hate is my political being. I even refuse to declare myself as Serbian officially, because I live in nationalist, not civic state. When Chroats, Gypses, Albanians and other citizens of Serbia of non Serbian nationality can call themselves Serian, when that word at the first place represents the citizenship, then I will declare myself as one. Until then, in solidarity with all the citizens of my country who cannot claim their citizenship in one word (because that would impose on them the fake national belonging), I give up my nationality. I remain a citizen, and have no nationality. I advize facing the truth, not comforting ourselves in lies, I advize solidarity, and I remain alone. Hated, most of the time. Think well before you accept this advizing story. You can addopt only parts of it, like the parts on favourite places and windows and houses. That can still keep you in an acceptable avarage (women especially) 🙂

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All the times I was alone

With no witnesses at all

Things I don’t tell and I know

Where do they end when I go?

Our writings

Conversations

All creations

Culture

Movies

Drawings paintings

Lectures

Public hesitations

Furniture that one makes

Designs we see

Dinner parties

Clothes

Images on TV

Remain, last

Known, recognized

By many.

Who is to prove when I die

That all I knew once was real?

And each of these things and notions

Cause a chain of emotions

Consequences

Or reflections

Experience shared and random

All, with methods of today

Provable in some way.

That’s clear as can be

And intrigues me

To look for, choose, select

Challenges to interact.

Digging up many layers

Conducting investigations

We may call – reality.

Who is to prove when I die

That all I knew once was real?

But my question still remains

Inquiring on long time

On processes in our brains

And our acts while we’re alive.

I mean: acts unseen,

Thoughts unspoken

Sounds not heard

Things known by only – me.

When I go,

Do all those things disappear?

Who is to prove when I die

That all I knew once was real?

Upsetting, ain’t it?

Once we go

Away, ahead, on, beyond

Reality,

Most our moments get unreal,

Erased.

Never happened,

Actually.

I know, that freaky fact

Motivates us to create

That subconscious kind of fear

Provides that we testify

On our knowledge, when we die,

To be heard when we don’t hear.

Who is to prove, when I die,

That all I knew once was real?

Yet, there’s no good reason to

Share everything openly.

Not that there’s a need to hide.

Or… is there? Aware, inside,

That testimonies can be fake,

Riddles, impossible to break…

Our life, it seams, when we die,

Can become a perfect crime!

My life never happened.

I did not live, was not alive, most of my time

I will say when I die.

My life never happened

Who is to prove, when I die,

That all I knew once was real?

I did not live, was not alive, most of my time

I will say when I die.

Who is to prove, when I die,

That all I knew once was real?

Perfect crime – Death’s best deal!

Photos by: Jelena Markovic

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Where do I start from? I have to pick up…

I left in a hurry to meet my guest who had just arrived from Holland, as I was getting ready to comment on Karadzic spirit floating over Belgrade… She called from her mobile, left her laguage at my doorstep…

She had a walk around my block as was being late...

She had a walk around my block as was being late...

 Young as she is, she knows how to love me, eventhough I get late in situations like this. She accepts my time always being too short, finds joy in, or brings joy to my working hours that are all hours, stays with me while I work, sometimes, just so that we are close. Rushing to warmly hug her and host her, I still had the image of that train leaving, taking away my previous guest – the image that tastes like a boan in my throat, until we meet again.

Nothing like a train leaving the station behind...

Nothing like a train leaving the station behind...

The one on that train was all excited about the arrest, just like myself. We spoke on the phone about it. On the phone, and just the other day she was here… The circulation of regular guests in my small attick gets buisy in this time of the year. I love it. I don’t like to see them go away. I must have lonely times, I guess. But who is to notice, when life is going on? I already thought he got away for good, when the news broke out! But hear me, I am not doing this to report on the arrest and the events that follow. I live here and sniff around the remains of it all. That is my interest, because I remain here too. So, sniffing around, many things seamed so normal to me. Only here and there a group would protest, and special police forces would just stand arround, modeling, one could think.

Terranova is a rather popular store, doesn't sell uniforms though! Do not misread this blury photo, it was raining heavily, so boys had to find a shelter.

Terranova is a rather popular store, doesn't sell uniforms though! Do not misread this blury photo, it was raining heavily, so boys had to find a shelter.

purchase a policeman - today's offer only!

purchase a policeman - today's offer only!

They didn’t want to be on the photos either. Eventually one of them told me that what I was doing was not good. I asked what he was refering to as my doing, since I was doing a lot at the same moment. Turned out I was a total waste, in his opinion. Yeas, weather was groomy. But is it my fault that policemen belong to the side doing the job they got to hate: arresting the warcriminal whom many among them consider a hero, making sure that their political alies (maybe family members?) do not burn up the city, in protest to capture of Karadzic? Last time Belgrade was under the attack of the “peacefull demonstrators” (February 21st, over the Kosova independance), police did a lousy job – they did not prevent the destruction. This time, the same electoral body among the citizens hasn’t reached out for such radical measures. It was clear: February street event was entirely state designed. The recent one/ones seam to be random. The state thinks planely: we did it (the arrest), we cannot sponsor such a spectacle again, it is not the same. What a confused brain of an imbecil state, one may think… But the way I see it, imbecil or not, Serbian state is doing its best to pursue the path of “pride and glory”, of wariors, of Milosevic, of Kostunica and Karadzic, in both cases. Destroying its own Capital while targeting on presence of West (EU and USA) is a twisted act, but remarkable sign of hostility towards the idea of facing the past, present and future. Keeping the preasure down arround the event of Karadzic’s arrest is the same denial: we did it, but let’s keep it quiet. Just a lament, here and there, to use the occasion and blame it all on the blackmail of the International community, and the traitors among us. That is what Kostunica allows: one tear, small groups, proud speaches, normal life. He did it – he did not do it, he never would. Gotta follow the path of self-victimizing glorious nation of wariors, hurrased by dirty, globalizing forces, that impose some stupid Tribunal on holy Serbia. /neither the Tribunal is stupid, nor Serbia holy – the word is that NOTHING IS ALLOWED TO CHANGE IN MINDS OF CITIZENS! If something clicks in one’s mind, he/she becomes a traitor.  The calm on the streets speaks: it didn’t happen. Karadzic will forever be in our harts. Deny, deny, deny – streets deny that the state betrayed the path. That is the only safe way to preserve the percentage of voters for nationalist cause. Like it was the safest way to show hatrage and violence to the West which recognized the independant Kosova. State runs the streets these days, and to its own taste. These random looking gatherings are again designed by the same state that practically ordered the disorder months ago. That’s why policemen have been modeling: state hides the fact that it runs the street events. State pretends it expects something it didn’t organize. And it doesn’t happen, sure.

In and out of vehicles is something to do...

In and out of vehicles is something to do...There vas an obvious need to protect themselves from rain, as there was no need to protect the President's residence...

My concern is at my place, litterarely, while I am out writing these lines… My young Dutch guest doesn’t understand how I can be in favour of Kosovo independance. Please, anyone whou might read this, do not let ypurselves be fed the metaphoric story Serbs have been spreading… the one in which a house, your house, represents the state… then the story goes: so imagine, some day, I come in, and I move in to stay. And a little after that, I expell you and proclaim it mine. Now, would you allow that? – I heard it so many times! And yesterday again, from my dearest guest, whom I care so much about. Clearely, she refers to herself as an Albanian, who came to live in Serbia, Kosova, and then her grand children expelled mine, or something, from my own land. First, it is the myth that Kosovars are only recent immigrants from Albania. Second, even if they were, they were also citizens of Serbia, Kosova. So the house was never mine, never only my property. And the most important of all, as third, why doesn’t the metaphore explain how I acted in that house? Why doesn’t it say that I was provided with heavy weapons to use on her? That for a long time, I had treated her as less human then myself, until I eventually started butchering around, on her! Now, wouldn’t the metaphoric story end with me closed in an institution as danger to other humans? Wouldn’t I be denied the competence to handle any real estate? Logically, the house would stay in use, for others living in it – for her.

In a group of 15 demonstrators, putting publicly a curse on six generations to come of all those in favour of Karadzic's arrest!

In a group of 15 demonstrators, putting publicly a curse on six generations to come of all those in favour of Karadzic's arrest!

I made a compareson of two political events, more precisely their consequences in the streets of Belgrade, because I had no blog in February and also because I wish to denounce how sly the political establishment in Serbia is. I wouldn’t want the process to end before it ever started in Serbia, and I mean the proccess of dealing with the past. People here do not recognize the difference between guilt and responsability. That is why we do not have a civic society: nobody wants to be responsable as a citizen, when it is easier to angrily deny the guilt.

How do we fall asleap?

How do we fall asleap?

I am so often sleepless, since 1991. I will go back home now, to my dear friend, who sleeps like an angel, to wake her up, and see her to the bus. She is going to the Adriatic sea, and will come back to me soon. Just for a while. Enough to discuss that metaphore again, I hope.

Photos by: Jelena Markovic

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The user friendly software was not so friendly to me, the most recent bloger/subjective view, while in fact my ignorance pushed me, the user, into hostile attitude to the friendly software/. Now I can only announce that in some hours, I will post more on Karadzic spirit floating above Belgrade. At least the previous post now looks the way I actualy made it:) If I see comments on this one short post, I, the self-tougth user, will get to all of you, born with preknowledge of technology’s rich and generous offers yet to be developed!

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As the news broke out, the sky started falling, dropping all its tears for Karadzic! All night it was heavily raining, on and on. Yet happily, I made my first morning steps. And raining it was still!

exploring my neighourhood, step by step, the first very different morning...

exploring my neighourhood, step by step, the first very different morning...

The idea of Karadzic enjoying his time in my city quarter, Vracar, was giving me creeps all night, wouldn’t let me sleep: the monster was just by my side, in a way, doesn’t even metter for how long! And I, his enemy, who have made large efforts to denounce him to local nationalists, to moderate democrats, and to the world, as my obligation by simply being a Serbian citizen, I who have been publicly requesting Karadzic’s capture and delivery to the Hague, I still cannot celebrate. Yes, I shead a tear of joy on the big news. Yes, a little bit of justice has just taken place by the arrest. Yes, I think of a piece of relief most probably felt by Karadzic’s victims, and some I met in person, and I share their feeling. Yet, celebrate – I cannot! For, what has changed in the minds of my neighbours, of my parents, of most Serbian citizens, same ones I named just some lines above? I would say, by protests all around town, and outside the Special court (again the place I put trust in, again place I am familiar with), nothing changed in their minds! They are just furious, feeling betrayed! Even the symbolic immage is on their side:

the internet cafee that I use is on the edge of my neighbouhood, it has huge windows and a view on one of main squares in Belgrade, Slavija

the internet cafee that I use is on the edge of my neighbouhood, it has huge windows and a view on one of main squares in Belgrade, Slavija

Rain, like tears… Oh, my!

Reality puts Karadzic in prison. I hope he ends as soon as possible in the Hague Tribunal, where he should have gotten long, long ago. So this morning is different. In times when I lost all hope that globalization of justice is possible, and that it will take place – most wanted war criminal got arrested. And he will be prosecuted. And will get convicted. I cannot imagine any different destiny for him, after all. So global justice I fight for is happining, way too slow in my opinion, yet happening. It will be written in history of the World. That is one important step. For way too long, Karadzic and other war criminals were not even wanted, but included in international negotiations. Mainstream broke under efforts of Bosnian women, asking for the truth on the streets of the cities where they refuged! So the international community had to move its ass on the issue. But hardly any official Serbian asses moved on it, unfortunately, ever! And mainly due to the Premier of Serbia, Vojislav Kostunica, who faithfully followed Milosevic’s politics, while at the same time building the image of a moderate democrat, honorable individual, and a good christian always in company of Serbian ortodox church priests. Serbian ortodox church is, at the first place, a strong nationalist political state sponsored body – all this due to the efforts of Kostunica’s government that provided the Church with the law that ignores and breaks the Constitution guaranteed secular character of our state! (President Tadic of Democratic party gave his Amen to it, too, by veryfying it more then 2 years ago).

St. Sava temple at the back, mainly constructed during the 90ies - years of wars and sanctions - still getting fully made up during all years of this century, swollowed up a fortune while hungry, degraded people (most of whom old and in pension) were commiting suicides as preferance to starvation! The temple is in the core of Vracar, where i live and Karadzic rested for some time.

St. Sava temple at the back, mainly constructed during the 90ies - years of wars and sanctions - still getting fully made up during all years of this century, swollowed up a fortune while hungry, degraded people (most of whom old and in pension) were commiting suicides as preferance to starvation! The temple is in the core of Vracar, where i live and Karadzic rested for some time.

So no metter what Serbia officials say, how proud they may claim to be about this arrest, something smells bad: AND I DO NOT TRUST THEM!

Instead, I want all their political and personal interests revealed. I want Serbian war criminals named as such in history school books in Serbia. I want this arrest to start the oppen discussion in my country on the fact that all war crimes are to be punished, and that our business is to deal with the ones who commited war crimes in our name. And not relativize it by jumping straight away to any example of any other part, regionally or worldwide! (This kind of sharade is the first refuge to the selfproclaimed patriots.)

the sky can change above us

the sky can change above us!

The sky may be crying not for Karadzic, but for all the brains that will not move forward on this occasion, or any other! I rushed to use and exploit the metaphor, before big Serbian poets, members of Serbian Academy of Science and Art, do it! A cheep metaphor, I have to say!

St. Matrco church, detailed shot in dawn/of a new age, I hope!

St. Matrco church, detailed shot in dawn/of a new age, I hope!

And I work for the day when Church will not necessarily be above the ones who chose for something else, like civic society, when irony will not play with us but we with it, when common good will be above individual priviledges, when rains will fall and sun will shine in my country as it is facing the past, present and future; when one Karadzic will not be multiplied in heads of my neighbours (one of him arround was enough!) and bells of St. Sava temple will stop threatening my small attick from being knocked down by their noise, performed way too often (every full hour) for way too long (10 loud scary minutes every noon + reverberation, which brings in something of a horror movie).

Go, Karadzic, go away from Vracar. Take your sins and dirty mind, along with your bloody hands, to prison. And live not as a myth, hero nor idea, for you have never been it. All you’ ve been is seen through. Your substance has monstrouse taste. Keep it to only yourself. Some of us will see to that, because future obligates.

Photos by Jelena Markovic, on the day/night of arrest, and today, 21st-22nd July 2008

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