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Faruk Šehić
bars, factories and throngs of
peopleblithely celebrating the
happy eighties, unaware of
why they were merrymaking.
People were as carefree as
birds. If someone wanted to
be poor, that was their own
choice. Enjoying life came
as naturally to you as the
realization that tomorrow
will be a new day. Your three
houses of worship (with the
Orthodox cross, the Catholic
cross and the crescent
moon with a star) stood so
close to each other that you
could sometimes see their
shadows touch and intersect
in the semi-darkness of a
summer evening – a fantastic
interpenetrationof theearthly
and the otherworldly. No one
took any notice of that back
then because that harmony
seemed a gift of forgotten
ancestors and something
taken for granted. People
lived without history, and
outside of history. The Cold
War only brought temporary
fuel shortages and occasional
queues for fresh bread. Soon
the days of restrictions were
over and the future opened
up, sumptuous and generous.
Or is it quite conceivable that
you were never like that?
You’re now a phantom town.
Your foundations rest in not-
too-distant memory. You’re
now a town of memory. You
have none of the otherworldly
vibrations that gave people
faith in the joy of life. Now
you are just home to plants
and animals. A river passes
through you that no longer
bestows you the fruits of
its waters. You’re now a
phantom town: a waiting