TE20 Migrant Mosaics

Goran Vojnović

was talking about Safet, but too rapidly and incoherently for Aleksandar and Jana to follow. She was tossing out words; and names, places and times flew chaotically around the room. And so as she went on, Aleksandar and Jana were not so much listening to her as watching her, convinced that this was one of those stories that could only be understood if you managed to let the words wash over you. At some point Jana got up, went over to Vesna and took hold of her hand. It was then that Vesna’s story stopped short. Tears ran down her cheeks. You’re never too old to be a child, and ever since Safet had left, Vesna had wanted, just for one short moment, to be vulnerable; to cling on to someone, seeking comfort. But when Vesna looked at Jana, there, from up close, it was another, equally vulnerable girl that she saw. She turned to Aleksandarwith two hazel question marks for eyes, wide open, hoping that her father would explain who this small child was, this child in her mother’s body. But he didn’t hear the question. Vesna couldn’t bear to be near the stranger who she ought to have called Mum. As she stepped out of the door, she just wanted to walk, to get away as quickly as possible, all she wanted was to carry on walking, but she was stopped by the thought of the border guards who would be waiting for her not far from here. They stopped her in the middle of the garden of the house in Momjan, and sat her down on the nearest bench. Beneath the fig tree.

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