Niš, Serbia

On the bus, you open your eyes to a glorious sunrise over the rolling vineyard hills of southern Serbia. A toddler pokes her head over the seat in front of you, and gives you a cherubic smile, the sun behind her giving her a glowing halo. It's early morning on the holiday May 1st, a new day, a new month. The streets of Niš are silent and wake slowly and gently on their day off.

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These little stopovers, rough diamonds, can be real gems. I hang here, between Montenegro and Bulgaria, quite charmed. The wide streets are dappled by the sun shining through the thick leaves overhead. Birds rustle in the branches. You walk and walk and walk, and drink the fine wine make a real connection. Colourful street art blooms everywhere and the city luxuriates in the holiday atmosphere.

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Broken stone walls display a terrible message, that still haunts and stalks this land, through the centuries to today - a monument to evil. Cracked skulls stare out of the walls, through you, beyond you, back into the void of time, staring at a liberty lost, regained, lost, cycled over and over. They were killed, mounted as a warning - don't try to liberate yourselves again...

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Grey morning light touches the edges of the window, and the trees outside by the river sway in the wind. You were just passing through.Baca lagi