Sarajevo II

Roses:

He kneels on the flagstones. His joints creak in the cold. Winter has made another vengeful comeback, a knife of ice through the string of warming spring days up to now. It's cold, he thinks, just like in that basement, especially when it was just him and Esma there, when everyone else was out looking for a potato, an egg, a life, dodging bullets from beyond.

*like a child's scrawling of a red sun, and its striated(?) radiating rays*Leer más