This book was my answer to the war madness sweeping through Yugoslavia in the 1990s. When the war started, in 1991, the Belgrade media became full of propaganda, and words became weapons aimed at increasing tensions and preparing population for whatever Milosevic's regime needed to continue its bloody adventure. State-controlled radio, television, newspapers and magazines bombarded consumers with the language of hate and fear.

After awhile, I caught myself developing distrust of all forms of communication, and I realized that this was precisely the aim the regime had in mind: once we stopped believing in communication, we would become the perfect soldiers.

To raise my voice against this, I decided to make a strictly controlled book. I collected a handful of poems I had written in the years just before the war, printed them in one copy, hand-bound the (small) volume, painted the cover, and titled it all “A shadow and a dream”. Then I told my friends about the simple rules I set for this project: everyone who wanted to read it had to print their name and telephone number in the space reserved at the end of the book, and each next reader had to call at least one of the previous readers. I wanted to encourage personal communication, at the same time putting a strict control over my words.

Because it was time when words were dangerous. Just like today. Just like always.

Excerpt from the “...Dream”:

 

WHY DID YOU HESITATE, MY ENEMY?

Those rare moments when my parents laugh
remind me that we could have been
a family
if only we'd met in time
Kafka, Orwell, Andreyev
or someone else of those
who could have surrounded us