Trafika Europe 5 - Slovenian Interlude

My imagination was vivid, and I liked to abuse it when it came to the ladies, but this time, I’d reached an impasse. Nadia’s voice numbed me, and I stopped midway through my first invented sentence. I could feel how much good an honest conversation with her would do me now. I could use an ally in this suddenly and harshly true story in which I found myself. I missed her attentive listening. I missed her rational summary of my incoherent words, her sharp conclusions, which I was too blunt to draw myself. Nadia was a whole lot smarter than me: younger, more naïve, but cleverer. I even thought, for a second, about turning around and driving back to her. But I was too stubborn. I wasn’t the kind of person to give up before the end of a story. The information on what exactly had happened at Višnjići was sparse, even online. There was probably a lot more detail in Croatian newspapers back in the ‘90s, and certainly there were people around who knew a lot about it, but I had no idea who to ask, and how much they might want to tell. From what I had managed to piece together I knew that on 13 November 1991, the Third Corps of the Yugoslav People’s Army, under the command of General Borojević, looted and burnt down the village of Višnjići, near Vukovar. In the process, they had murdered thirty-four unarmed villagers, including children, women and old men. They had buried the *

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