I'm an activist and a writer, born in Bosnia, grew up in the UK - yes, I know, another war-child who grew up a little too brave. I'm also a bit of a meverick. Please feel free to get in touch.
I got a message on Instagram yesterday for a famous actor — we’ve all had those, right? Well, this one was a little different; there were fewer compliments (though there were some), they spent a lot more time promoting this guy’s work, and the conversation ended within an hour. This is all very different from those conversations that dive into asking for stuff without a word about the person they are claiming to be, and then they keep going, pressuring you to give them whatever it is they want from you.
Wisdom And Fear of Death
The years of distance have changed the way I see my past. I can remember being scared; being young, alone, responsible for my little girl, angry, and rejected by my society. I recall the panic attacks, the prayers, the hopes, the sleepless nights, but it’s like watching a movie or seeing someone else go through it. They say ‘time heals all’, it’s not so much that it heals as it makes us a stranger to ourselves. We become our own audience wondering how and why is that person going through so much pain, and then we realize that we are the person. Call it evolution, some kind of inevitable change, call it growth, or call it time, the fact is, everything really does pass. Well, not everything. The mind has a strange way of retaining the good memories while it lets the bad ones fade away as if they were a lie or a dream. I wish I knew this when I was young.
Just Another Life I
The lake glistens in the sun that is being pulled towards the mountain. Before too long the sun and the mountain will meet for that first kiss. The sun will then fall gently behind the mountain until it is completely gone, hidden away for the night. The tall, green trees growing densely all-around look on, as do the birds and the bees in those trees, as do I from my chair by the lake.
The Empty Picture Frame
Sarah loved going to see her grandma, not only because she loved spending time with the old lady who was never too busy for a game, but also because aunt Alissa’s room was at grandma’s house. Aunt Alissa travelled a lot, but whenever she came home, she came to live with grandma in the room filled with all kinds of pictures, and photographs, and books, and all sorts of little ornaments. Sarah loved to just look around even when aunt Alissa wasn’t there. And when aunt Alissa was there, the room came alive with all her stories.
I Didn’t Mean It
Summer of 2015 in Vienna. I could tell you about the beautiful metropolis that reminds me of both war and peace at the same time, but that has nothing to do with my story since I didn’t get to see Vienna during the five days we were there. The only time I left the hotel was to take a bus ride to the government offices. I was attending a Civil Society Conference with a whole bunch of other activists not just from Bosnia but also from other neighbouring countries in the Balkan.
Christmas by an Onlooker
I love Christmas in the UK. I don’t celebrate, but I still love that time of year. There’s just something nice in the atmosphere. Plus, I love the lights. They’re my favourite. In fact, I would put up the Christmas lights at the beginning of November and wouldn’t take them down until the end of February. Come on, we can power those with solar energy now – save it during summer, spend it during winter, right? People need light. So when days are short, why not turn on the lights?
Snow White and Cinderella Meet for a Coffee
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a beautiful young woman called Snow White ran into a crowded café to get out of the rain. She ordered her drink, while taking off her coat and shaking raindrops off her back hair. When her drink came she looked around for an empty chair. There were a few scattered about at various tables that were already occupied. Should she stand with all the other people who stood in their groups, or should she ask at one of the tables if she could use the chair? It felt odd to be standing there alone while all the others had someone to stand with, so she searched the tables to choose where to sit.
The truth about Money
I still remember the best lesson I ever learned about money. It was in my second year of Economics, the first lecture in Macroeconomics. Our professor took out a 20-pound note, waved it around in front of an auditorium full of young students, and asked "Who can tell me what this is?"
My name is Zenica
Legend has it that thousands of years ago this valley was ruled by an exceptional young woman of great courage and moral virtues. She adored her people, and they adored her. God too was inclined to them, gave them a winding river to nourish their plants and make all kinds of food grow in plenty. Watermelons as sweet as honey grew long after the woman and her people had died out.
Mel and Meg were two inseparable caterpillars. They did everything together. On sunny days they’d crawl from one green leaf to the next munching at it in such a way as to create new shapes. Sometimes the shapes were funny, sometimes sad and sometimes thought-provoking. Mel and Meg called it their art. On rainy days they’d curl up together in the crack of their favourite tree; an old oak that stood proudly in the middle of some large field.