Becoming Sarajevan

In Sarajevo, everyone knows everyone else.  I have been here long enough that I walk past a coppersmith's shop and the coppersmith recognizes me, invites me in for coffee with him and his wife (neither of whom speak English), then run into the scarf-maker whose husband talks theology with me for an hour, then, this evening, I am walking down the main street in the čaršija and hear someone call my name.  It's Pedja (I hope I've spelled that corretly), a friend of Danis's. I sit and have coffee with him and his girlfriend for a while.  We discuss this photographer whose work I discovered by name today.  And, while talking about Tarik Samarah, who should walk up to our table at the cafe...?

As I thought when I first arrived here... I have come home again for the very first time.




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