Sarajevo, August 1991
Božica"s house is a few hundred meters from the library. From her bedroom window you can see Miljacka and a small piece of the Baščaršija market. She is sitting on the bed with her legs crossed. She has opened a botany book and plunged into an almost surreal silence of her own. Her eyes fixed on the first few pages.
"What does it say?" I ask her. "You don"t speak Bosnian?"
"No! Only Croatian, Serbian and Romani!" I tell her by running three fingers through the count.
He smiles at the thought of revealing to her that I am a little Roma girl. She closes the book.
"Don"t you keep reading?"
"No, I have an errand to finish! I have to deliver four chairs for next week! Come, I"ll show you!"
We go down to the basement. There is carpenter"s equipment hanging on the wal
