Trafika Europe 5 - Slovenian Interlude

‘I don’t know.’

‘There’s nothing left, dear Vlado. They’ve removed everything. Vultures. It’s a strange world that moved here. It’s somehow, how can I put it... moronic.’

‘Do you happen to have a phone book?’

Mediha did not have a phone book, and I didn’t think it fruitful to ask if she had an online computer. I thanked her for everything and promised to get in touch if I ever found Tomislav. She wrote her phone number on a scrap of paper and shoved it into my hands. Standing at the door, she then watched me descend the stairs. As I passed the apartment of Vasa Đorđić, who for some reason still piqued my curiosity, I looked back towards Mediha, who smiled and waved like kindly aunts tend to do, grateful that their nephews and nieces come for even a brief, rare visit. I smiled back like a nephew who knows very well he’ll never see his aunt again.


If you just glance at towns like Brčko, it’s impossible to tell whether they might have a cybercafé. But had I stopped random passers-by and asked them about it, I would surely have ended up at the police station sooner


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