RAVEN
The city of Belgrade greets me warmly as we descend the airstairs. The air here feels different in ways I cannot explain properly.
It is cooler and lighter than America or Italy.
The feeling of being free in a land where no one knows me envelops me. There is a fleet of cars waiting up ahead for us—Dante made arrangements ahead of time.
We get into one of the cars, and our luggage is loaded into the trunk. The driver greets us in English, with his Serbian accent hanging in the air.
As the car pulls away from the airport and into the city, I press my face closer to the window, watching the tall buildings. Everything is more beautiful than I have read in history books.
For the first time in days, my chest doesn’t feel like a buffalo is sitting on it. I forget Dante is seated close
