My friend was killed last night in Mostar. We heard from each other a few days ago. She was born in Kalesija. And we did some things together. She lived in Sarajevo for a while, where she taught at a school.
Then she found an international job that allowed her to choose where to live. She chose Mostar. I persuaded her to stay in Sarajevo. She never loved him. She complained that the city is cold and that the people here are arrogant and “prudent”. She was mild and unobtrusive, yet alive, combative, herself.
She went to live in Mostar maybe 2 years ago. In contrast to Sarajevo, in Mostar she spoke in superlatives. This guy she met recently. She didn’t tell me much about him, we rarely heard from each other lately, but she just wrote that she was happy.
Obviously she didn’t see that she was with an insane monster. Or she saw, but too late.
He was waiting for her to return to Mostar, with a gun. She was running for her life. She ran into the pub, tried to hide in the toilet. The poor bastard caught up with her and shot her. And it wasn’t just in affect. This is a well thought out and organized act of murder.
If only the bitch was brave enough to judge for herself and free this world from the garbage that is a shame it was ever born.
And now that same wretch, that poor, cowardly nothing of a man, will live in the warmth, fed and protected for the next decades at the expense of people who are worth a thousand times more than him.
Such and similar garbage is mass-produced around us, and the game of fate is only waiting for the moment when the delicate and fragile vanities of those emotionally irrational Cro-Magnons will be hurt again to the extent that some innocent woman will lose her life.
And she is gone.
I have no conclusion. Just the void left after reality crumbled like a wall of rotting wood. Just the need to get this out of my head, because if I don’t write it down – I might convince myself that it didn’t happen.
May her land be easy. She was better than the world that welcomed her, he writes Avaz.
