I am from

I am from concrete staircases, cherry trees, and apple blossoms.

I am from crystal chandeliers, long curtains, loud music, pickled cauliflower, and baked papers.

I am from the snow, the sun, the sea, and the shadows.

I am from chestnut bags, long lines of black-dressed mothers, and pennies in the corner.

I am from long dinners, news reports, political quarrels, status quo, or revolution.

I am from bananas on New Year’s Eve and European herrings on Easter that make my uncle light a cigarette, smile, and exhale a smoke that fills up the emptiness and ignites my imagination.

I am from the always dreaming, working, cooking, opinionated tribe, listening to “Sports and Music”, dancing to folk songs, running late for the theater, and leaving last from the concert hall.

I am comforted by these words: I am going somewhere to do something, meet somebody, pick up one thing, and not sure when I will be back.

I am from marching meetings, long speeches and assemblies, boring songs, and silence. 

I am from K-a, the fearless conqueror and H-o, the charming follower, they have been ruling for centuries the cities and villages of the dark Balkans. They organize armies and lose them on the way to the front, they build factories and lose the gain to emperors, they demand and give, provide and expect, but they sleep at night like babies.

I am from garlic gardens, the smell of cheese and gasoline fumes, peaches, pears, and lilac.

I am from soldiers who came back home with sadness in their eyes that can’t be consoled and teachers who grew vines and drank wine with their students while searching for the truth.

I am from disappointments that dried my grandparent’s laugh.

I am from gravestones in the shape of stage curtains, made of white marble, slightly open and never, never to know what is behind.

I am from gold, silver, and copper, rocks and dirt, spring water, and wishes.