Belgrad Quotes

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On this Very Street in Belgrade" Your mother carried you Out of the smoking ruins of a building And set you down on this sidewalk Like a doll bundled in burnt rags, Where you now stood years later Talking to a homeless dog, Half-hidden behind a parked car, His eyes brimming with hope As he inched forward, ready for the worst.
Charles Simic
...while hiding in plain sight in Belgrade, undercover as a New Age mountebank, Karadžić frequented a bar called Mad House - Luda kuća. Mad House offered weekly gusle-accompanied performances of Serbian epic poetry; wartime pictures of him and General Ratko Mladić, the Bosnian Serbs' military leader (now on trial in The Hague), proudly hung on the walls. A local newspaper claimed that, on at least one occasion, Karadžić performed an epic poem in which he himself featured as the main hero, undertaking feats of extermination. Consider the horrible postmodernism of the situation: an undercover war criminal narrating his own crimes in decasyllabic verse, erasing his personality so that he could assert it more forcefully and heroically.
Aleksandar Hemon (The Book of My Lives)
So many people talk about the Golden Gate bridge, but I would bet they haven't seen the new Sava River Bridge. It has long metal ropes suspending it, like a gigantic angel's harp waiting for god's fingers to reach down and pluck the first chords, to send a vibration of relief and love into the heart of Belgrade.
Poppet (Sveta (Neuri, #1))
there's a long history of resistance movements igniting in the soccer stadium. In the Red Star Revolution, Draza, Krle, and the other Belgrade soccer hooligans helped topple Slobodan Milosevic. Celebrations for Romania's 1990 WOrld Cup qualification carried over into the Bucharest squares, culminating in a firing squad that trained its rifles on the dictator Nicolae Ceausescu and his wife. The movement that toppled the Paraguayan dictator Alfredo Stroessner had the same sportive ground zero.
Franklin Foer (How Soccer Explains the World)
On the train back, Svetlana told me about a Serbian movie director who had been friends with her father in Belgrade. The director's wife, an actress, had gone to Paris to make a movie with a young French director. The French director had died tragically, by falling off a bar-stool. "They say it might have been suicide," Svetlana said.
Elif Batuman (The Idiot)
The sky above Belgrade is expansive and high, shifting yet always beautiful; clear with its chill splendour during the winter; turning into a single downcast cloud during summer storms, driven by the crazy winds and bearing rain mixed with the dust of the Pannonian plain; seeming to flower along with the ground during spring; and growing heavy with roils of autumnal stars during fall. Always beautiful and bountiful, it is a reward to this odd township for all that is missing and a comfort for everything that should not be.
Ivo Andrić (Beogradske priče)
plans, Lola’s doubts revisited her. Branko was a zealot. In Belgrade he’d been interrogated and beaten
Geraldine Brooks (People of the Book)
From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic, an iron curtain has descended across the Continent. Behind that line lie all the capitals of the ancient states of Central and Eastern Europe. Warsaw, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Belgrade, Bucharest and Sofia, all these famous cities and the populations around them lie in what I must call the Soviet sphere, and all are subject in one form or another, not only to Soviet influence but to a very high and, in many cases, increasing measure of control from Moscow.” —Winston Churchill, speaking in Fulton, Missouri, March 5, 1946
Anne Applebaum (Iron Curtain: The Crushing of Eastern Europe, 1944-1956)
Oh it’s all in the day’s work,” said Jimmy. “What gives me gooseflesh is the armies mobilizing, Belgrade bombarded, Belgium invaded . . . all that stuff. I just cant imagine it. . . . They’ve killed Jaures.” “Who’s he?” “A French Socialist.” “Those goddam French are so goddam degenerate all they can do is fight duels and sleep with each other’s wives. I bet the Germans are in Paris in two weeks.
John Dos Passos (Manhattan Transfer: A Novel)
For a while now, I have been conscious of a tension in my relationship with you,” Svetlana said. “And I think that’s the reason. It’s because we both make up narratives about our own lives. I think that’s why we decided not to live together next year. Although obviously it’s also why we’re so attracted to each other.” “Everyone makes up narratives about their own lives.” “But not to the same extent. Think about my roommates. Fern, for example. I don’t mean that she doesn’t have an inner life, or that she doesn’t think about the past or make plans for the future. But she doesn’t compulsively rehash everything that happens to her in the form of a story. She’s in my story – I’m not in hers. That makes her and me unequal, but it also gives our relationship a kind of stability, and safeness. We each have our different roles. It’s like an unspoken contract. With you, there’s more instability and tension, because I know you’re making up a story, too, and in our story, I’m just a character.” “I don’t know,” I said. “I still think everyone experiences their own life as a narrative. If you didn’t have some kind of ongoing story in mind, how would you know who you were when you woke up in the morning?” “That’s a weak definition of narrative. That’s saying that narrative is just memory plus causality. But, for us, the narrative has aesthetics, too.” “But I don’t think that’s because of our personalities,” I said. Isn’t it more about how much money our parents have? You and I can afford to pursue some narrative just because it’s interesting. You could go to Belgrade to come to terms with your life before the war, and I could go to Hungary to learn about Ivan. But Fern has to work over the summer.” “...Fern is just an example. Valerie’s parents are engineers, she doesn’t have to work, but she’s still more like Fern than she is like us” “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess it feels elitist to look at it that way.” “Don’t you think you pretending not to be elitist is disingenuous?” Svetlana said. “If you really think about who you are, and what you value?
Elif Batuman (The Idiot)
Military history teaches us, contrary to popular belief, that wars are not necessarily the most costly of human calamities. The allied coalition lost few lives in getting Saddam out of Kuwait during the Gulf War of 1991, yet doing nothing in Rwanda allowed savage gangs and militias to murder hundreds of thousands with impunity. Bill Clinton stopped a Balkan holocaust through air strikes, without sacrificing American soldiers. His supporters argued, with some merit, that the collateral damage from the NATO bombing of Belgrade resulted in far fewer innocents killed, in such a “terrible arithmetic,” than if the Serbian death squads had been allowed to continue their unchecked cleansing of Islamic communities.
Victor Davis Hanson (The Father of Us All: War and History, Ancient and Modern)
From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic, an iron curtain has descended across the Continent. Behind that line lie all the capitals of the ancient states of Central and Eastern Europe. Warsaw, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Belgrade, Bucharest and Sofia, all these famous cities and the populations around them lie in what I must call the Soviet sphere, and all are subject in one form or another, not only to Soviet influence but to a very high and, in many cases, increasing measure of control from Moscow.
Winston S. Churchill (The Sinews of Peace)
The sky above the Sarajevo valley had never been so open and bare as on that winter night, in a city without electricity. We stood and stared upward in astonishment, and my friend Ivan said, in his long, drawn-out Belgrade accent: “The staaarry sky above us, and moraaal laaaw within us!
Semezdin Mehmedinović (My Heart)
You bet. But I’d rather be bitter than frivolous. Okay, my sexual experience might be limited to kissing my cousin’s boyfriend in the Belgrade zoo at age thirteen, whereas Sanja is having an affair with a thirty-five-year-old married newscaster. But even so, I think I have a deeper understanding of love than she does.
Elif Batuman (The Idiot)
If my father hadn’t come to America about 35 years ago, I’d be starving in Poland . . .   I’d be sobbing in France . . .   I’d be stealing in Greece . . .   I’d be shivering in Belgrade . . .   I’d be slaving in Frankfurt . . .   I’d be hiding in Prague . . .   I’d be buried in Russia.   But here he was, alive and walking on his own two feet.
Ann Howard Creel (While You Were Mine)
Now I am writing this diary in English, which for me is not the language of intimacy or love, but an attempt at distance and sanity, a means of recalling normality.
Jasmina Tešanović (The Diary of a Political Idiot: Normal Life in Belgrade)
Fear is the most certain way to increase predictability in human beings.
Chase Hughes (The Belgrade Archer (Pierce Reston Book 2))
Well, then. Hungary borders, in the south, on the Danube and Serbia... and the Rumanian... Dalmatian... and Serbia... and the capital of Serbia.., and the Serbia of capital...
Frigyes Karinthy (Please Sir!)
It is better to be feared than loved,
Christian Cameron (Tom Swan and the Siege of Belgrade: Part Five)
More says, “In these last ten years the Turks have taken Belgrade. They have lit their campfires in the great library at Buda. It is only two years since they were at the gates of Vienna. Why would you want to make another breach in the walls of Christendom?” “The King of England is not an infidel. Nor am I.” “Are you not? I hardly know whether you pray to the god of Luther and the Germans, or some heathen god you met with on your travels, or some English deity of your own invention. Perhaps your faith is for purchase. You would serve the Sultan if the price was right.” Erasmus says, did nature ever create anything kinder, sweeter or more harmonious than the character of Thomas More?
Hilary Mantel (Wolf Hall (Thomas Cromwell, #1))
Bessie was News, Leaders, and Gossip; Enid was Features, Make-up and general Sub. Whenever they were at a loss for copy they would mercilessly pillage ancient copies of Punch or Home Chat. An occasional hole in the copy was filled with a ghoulish smudge - local block-making had clearly indicated that somewhere a poker-work fanatic had gone quietly out of his mind. In this way the Central Balkan Herald was made up every morning and then delivered to the composition room where the chain-gang quickly reduced it to gibberish. MINISTER FINED FOR KISSING IN PUBIC. WEDDING BULLS RING OUT FOR PRINCESS. QUEEN OF HOLLAND GIVES PANTY FOR EX-SERVICE MEN. MORE DOGS HAVE BABIES THIS SUMMER IN BELGRADE. BRITAINS NEW FLYING-GOAT.
Lawrence Durrell (Esprit De Corps)
Siempre las mismas caras que le recuerdan la herencia del día anterior, las promesas y las obligaciones, los deseos ceñidos por el orden de las frases conocidas. Afloran las palabras que no quiere pronunciar, pero incluso sin pronunciarlas están ahí, contra su voluntad, no le permiten alejarse, desviarse a una calle lateral, explorar un pasaje umbrío, salir a una plaza desconocida, entrar en otra vida.
Dragan Velikić (Bonavia)
From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic,’ he declared, an iron curtain has descended across the Continent. Behind that line lie all the capitals of the ancient states of Central and Eastern Europe: Warsaw, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Belgrade, Bucharest and Sofia, all these famous cities and the populations around them lie in what I must call the Soviet sphere, and all are subject in one form or another, not only to Soviet influence but to a very high and, in many cases, increasing measure of control from Moscow . . . The Communist parties, which were very small in all these Eastern States of Europe, have been raised to pre-eminence and power far beyond their numbers and are seeking everywhere to obtain totalitarian control. Police governments are prevailing in nearly every case, and so far, except in Czechoslovakia, there is no true democracy.
Andrew Roberts (Churchill: Walking with Destiny)
Dinle Mordaç, biraz da ben konuşayım şimdi." Mordaç acı acı baktı. "Ne konuşacaksın Miç? Ben sana yalan bir şey söylemedim." "Sana yalan söyledin demiyorum. Benim bir uşak olmadığımı sen de benim kadar bilirsin. Selmanoviç bana hiçbir zaman emir vermez. Yapılacak bir iş oldu mu her zaman rica eder. Benim haberim olmadan da bu çiftlikten kuş bile uçuramaz." "Bunların hiçbiri insanı uşaklıktan kurtaramaz." "Kaymakam olsaydım ne olacaktı? O zaman da valinin uşağı olacaktım. Üstelik maaşım yetmeyince de halkı soymaya kalkacaktım. Ne olacaktı sonra? Bir gün çarşı ortasında bundan önceki Kaymakam Kaleperoviç gibi bir Hırvat'ın kurşunuyla can verecektim." "Ya da Belgrad Meydanı'na heykelin dikilecekti!" "Gelip geçerken herkes tükürsün diye mi?" "Hayır, ayaklarını öpsün diye!" "İstemem, halkın sevgisine hiçbir zaman güven olmaz. Bugün ayağını öper, yarın da aynı ayağına ip bağlayıp seni ağaca asar. Eğer öyle olmasaydı politikacılara dünyada iş kalmazdı. Dünyanın en nankör sevgisi kadınınkinden sonra halkınkidir." "Her zaman değil Miç!" "Her zaman. Halk bir tırtıl gibidir. Yumuşaktır ama insanı kemirir.
Faik Baysal (Drina'da Son Gün)
The facts remain that the Serbian reply was not read by the man on whose decision the fate of the world still hung, until nearly sixty hours after it had been delivered at Belgrade; and that before he could act upon it, the irrevocable declaration of war had gone forth from Vienna.
Winston S. Churchill (The World Crisis Vol 5: The Eastern Front)
By day the pedestrianised streets of central Belgrade are swamped with the fashionable come to buy fashionable things, to sustain their sense of fashionability, while on the edge of the city the old folk sit, men with drooping cigarettes and time-sunken eyes, who stare at the swaggering world and are not impressed.
Claire North (Touch)
Belgrade gives me one Point Four.
Petra Hermans (Voor een betere wereld)
Of course, it would be a relief to step out of the nightmarish streets of Sarajevo and into the calm of her daughter’s Wiltshire village, but every instinct tells her to stay put. And it isn’t just the risk of redundancy and of their homes being taken that makes her want to remain. She loves Sarajevo. She knows all its alleys and courtyards, all its scents and sounds - the way the light falls at the end of their street in wintertime, the rattle of the tram, the blowsy roses that bloom each June in the mosque gardens, the plums and fogs in the autumn, the ponderous old men playing chess in the cafes, the mahalas - the old neighbourhoods - that radiate out from the centre like the spiral of a snail’s shell. In her twenties, when she returned home from her six years in Paris and Belgrade, she realised she couldn’t live anywhere else. And now, she wants to stay in the city she loves as it’s shaken, to see things through.
Priscilla Morris (Black Butterflies)
The much-anticipated passage from capitalism to socialism had been theorized ad nauseam in academies, universities and coffee bars from Belgrade to Berkeley; but no-one had thought to offer a blueprint for the transition from socialism to capitalism.
Tony Judt (Postwar: A History of Europe Since 1945)
Suleiman started by attacking Belgrade, which was then held by the Hungarians.
Billy Wellman (Suleiman the Magnificent: An Enthralling Guide to the Sultan Who Ruled during the Golden Age of the Ottoman Empire)
Belgrade held its ground for two months, falling in August 1521.
Billy Wellman (Suleiman the Magnificent: An Enthralling Guide to the Sultan Who Ruled during the Golden Age of the Ottoman Empire)
all the more precious since both Murad II and Mehmed II had tried to take Belgrade previously
Billy Wellman (Suleiman the Magnificent: An Enthralling Guide to the Sultan Who Ruled during the Golden Age of the Ottoman Empire)
Posle vekova ropstva, četrdeset bombarovanja, ratova i čudovišnih političkih režima, podelâ koje nas i danas svrstavaju u „Nas” i „Njih”, nisam mogao da ne pomislim da nad Beogradom ne pada kiša, već samo suze, da mi ne znamo za prašinu, već samo za pepeo. Ko zna koliko puta sam poželeo da mi Beograd ne znači ništa, da mogu da pođem bilo gde, dalje od boli koju mi pričinjava što poreklo vučem odavde, a ne sa Jupitera, sa Neptuna. Ali, znao sam da bih bol pronašao bilo gde.
Boban Trifunović (Jaganjci)
Probdeo sam noć i sačekao da me sunce podseti da je u Beogradu podnošljivije, te i poželjnije živeti tokom noći. Lađa sa gradskog grba i dalje grabi ka dubinama ušća Save u Dunav, sa sve svojim građanima, neki skaču sa palube, neki tonu sa brodom, ali spokoj koji sati posle ponoći pružaju pomažu da se o tome misli nekom drugom prilikom, pa trećom, četvrtom i petom, dok prilika ne nestane. Mrak i muk i meandriranje sudbine svih svetova koje na krupnijem planu ništa ne menja. U tome sam uvek nalazio utehu kada bih, užljebljen u svakodnevicu, pomislio da je ma koji od mojih problema zbog nečega značajan.
Boban Trifunović (Jaganjci)
Croatia, with hundreds of thousands of Serbs within its boundaries, was not ready to accept such an outcome. Croatian President Franjo Tudjman had long dreamed of establishing Croatia as an independent country. But the boundaries of his “country,” drawn originally by Tito to define the republic within Yugoslavia, would contain areas in which Serbs had lived for centuries. In the brief war in Slovenia the Yugoslav Army seemed to be defending the territorial integrity of Yugoslavia; when that same army went to war only a few weeks later against Croatia, it had become a Serb army fighting for the Serbs inside Croatia. The Croatian-Serbian war began with irregulars and local incidents, and escalated rapidly to full-scale fighting. In August 1991, an obscure Yugoslav Army lieutenant colonel named Ratko Mladic joined his regular forces with the local irregulars—groups of young racists and thugs who enjoyed beating up Croats—and launched an attack on Kijevo, an isolated Croat village in the Serb-controlled Krajina. There had been fighting prior to Kijevo, but this action, backed fully by Belgrade, “set the pattern for the rest of the war in Croatia: JNA [Yugoslav] artillery supporting an infantry that was part conscript and part locally-recruited Serb volunteers.”12 Within weeks, fighting had broken out across much of Croatia. The JNA began a vicious artillery assault on Vukovar, an important Croat mining town on the Serbian border. Vukovar and the region around it, known as eastern Slavonia, fell to the Serbs in mid-November, and Zagreb was threatened, sending Croatia into panic. (The peaceful return of eastern Slavonia to Croatia would become one of the central issues in our negotiations in 1995.) After exhausting other options, the European Community asked the former British Foreign Secretary Lord Carrington to take on the task of bringing peace to Yugoslavia. Carrington, an urbane man of legendary integrity, told me later that he had never met such terrible liars in his life as the peoples of the Balkans. As the war in Croatia escalated and Vukovar crumbled under Serb shells, Carrington put forward a compromise plan
Richard Holbrooke (To End a War: The Conflict in Yugoslavia--America's Inside Story--Negotiating with Milosevic)
Dicle yine gözümde Tunalaştı.
Süleyman Nazif
And the Austrian army, awfully arrayed, boldly, by battery, besieged Belgrade.
Patrick Leigh Fermor (Between the Woods and the Water (Trilogy, #2))
The kingdom of Bosnia forms a division of the Ottoman empire, and is a key to the countries of Roumeli (or Romeli). Although its length and breadth be of unequal dimensions, yet it is not improper to say it is equal in climate to Misr and Sham (Egypt and Syria). Each one of its lofty mountains, exalted to Ayuk, (a bright red star that * The peace of Belgrade was signed on the first of September, 1739. By this peace the treaty of Passarowitz was nullified, and the rivers Danube, Save, and Una re-established, as the boundaries of the two empires. See note to page 1. always follows the Hyades,) is an eye-sore to a foe. By reason of this country's vicinity to the infidel nations, such as the deceitful Germans, Hungarians, Serbs (Sclavonians), the tribes of Croats, and the Venetians, strong and powerful, and furnished with abundance of cannon, muskets, and other weapons of destruction, it has had to carry on fierce war from time to time with one or other, or more, of these deceitful enemies—enemies accustomed to mischief, inured to deeds of violence, resembling wild mountaineers in asperity, and inflamed with the rage of seeking opportunities of putting their machinations into practice; but the inhabitants of Bosnia know this. The greater part of her peasants are strong, courageous, ardent, lion-hearted, professionally fond of war, and revengeful: if the enemy but only show himself in any quarter, they, never seeking any pretext for declining, hasten to the aid of each other. Though in general they are harmless, yet in conflict with an enemy they are particularly vehement and obstinate; in battle they are strong-hearted ; to high commands they are obedient, and submissive as sheep; they are free from injustice and wickedness; they commit no villany, and are never guilty of high-way robbery; and they are ready to sacrifice their lives in behalf of their religion and the emperor. This is an honour which the people of Bosnia have received as an inheritance from their forefathers, and which every parent bequeaths to his son at his death. By far the greater number of the inhabitants, but especially the warlike chiefs, capudans, and veterans of the borders, in order to mount and dismount without inconvenience, and to walk with greater freedom and agility, wear short and closely fitted garments: they wear the fur of the wolf and leopard about their shoulders, and eagles' wings in their caps, which are made of wolf-skins. The ornaments of their horses are wolf and bearskins: their weapons of defence are the sword, the javelin, the axe, the spear, pistols, and muskets : their cavalry are swift, and their foot nimble and quick. Thus dressed and accoutred they present a formidable appearance, and never fail to inspire their enemies with a dread of their valour and heroism. So much for the events which have taken place within so short a space of time.* It is not in our power to write and describe every thing connected with the war, or which came to pass during that eventful period. Let this suffice. * It will be seen by the dates given in page 1, that the war lasted about two years and five months. Prepared and printed from the rare and valuable collection of Omer EfFendi of Novi, a native of Bosnia, by Ibrahim.* * This Ibrahim was called Basmajee^ the printer. He is mentioned in history as a renegado, and to have been associated with the son of Mehemet Effendi, the negotiator of the peace of Paasarowitz, and who was, in 1721, deputed on a special em-, bassy to Louis XV. Seyd Effendi, who introduced the art of printing into Turkey. Ibrahim, under the auspices of the government, and by the munificence of Seyd Effendi aiding his labours^ succeeded in sending from the newly instituted presses several works, besides the Account of the War in Bosnia.
Anonymous
Misli su uvek nečije. Moje su tvoje. Osvrćem se oko sebe. Gde si? Grad mi je pred očima i iza leđa, pulsira, tmulo, tmasto. Ukorenjeni ritam večne pretnje, svireposti koja ne bira kada će da udari.
Sreten Ugričić
Do you know what we call windows in Belgrade?' she asked. All our windows are broken and crisscrossed with scotch tape. 'Windows 99.
Jasmina Tešanović
I think of myself as a political idiot. Idiot, in ancient Greece, denoted a common person without access to knowledge and information--all women, by definition, and most men. I am unable to make judgments. I see no options I can identify with. Is that normal?
Jasmina Tešanović (The Diary of a Political Idiot: Normal Life in Belgrade)
I think about a story told by a Serbian player I very much admired. He must have lived in a village that was like mine but even poorer, far from everything, lost in the Yugoslavian countryside. When he was small, his uncle had given him a fabulous, shiny-white new ball. In order not to spoil it, he and his brother decided never to let it bounce on the ground and play only with their heads. There was only one ball, and they had to make it last. During one match, a coach from Red Star Belgrade spotted him. He was recruited thanks to the skills he had developed playing with his head in this way. What sort of player would he have been if he’d had access to twenty balls? Not spoiling the ball he was given, playing all the time, developing his own qualities through perseverance and training: I liked everything about this story. The white ball was sacred to me, too, and it remains so to this day. That was the kind of football I came from.
Arsène Wenger (My Life and Lessons in Red & White)
The invitation came from Studio Morra in Naples: Come and perform whatever you want. It was early 1975. With the scandalized reactions of the Belgrade press fresh in my mind, I planned a piece in which the audience would provide the action. I would merely be the object, the receptacle. My plan was to go to the gallery and just stand there, in black trousers and a black T-shirt, behind a table containing seventy-two objects: A hammer. A saw. A feather. A fork. A bottle of perfume. A bowler hat. An ax. A rose. A bell. Scissors. Needles. A pen. Honey. A lamb bone. A carving knife. A mirror. A newspaper. A shawl. Pins. Lipstick. Sugar. A Polaroid camera. Various other things. And a pistol, and one bullet lying next to it. When a big crowd had gathered at eight P.M., they found these instructions on the table: There are 72 objects on the table that one can use on me as desired. I am the object. During this period I take full responsibility. Duration: 6 hours (8pm - 2am) Slowly at first and then quickly, things began to happen. It was very interesting: for the most part, the women in the gallery would tell the men what to do to me, rather than do it themselves (although later on, when someone stuck a pin into me, one woman wiped the tears from my eyes). For the most part, these were just normal members of the Italian art establishment and their wives. Ultimately I think the reason I wasn’t raped was that the wives were there. As evening turned into late night, a certain air of sexuality arose in the room. This came not from me but from the audience. We were in southern Italy, where the Catholic Church was so powerful, and there was this strong Madonna/whore dichotomy in attitudes toward women. After three hours, one man cut my shirt apart with the scissors and took it off. People manipulated me into various poses. If they turned my head down, I kept it down; if they turned it up, I kept it that way. I was a puppet—entirely passive. Bare-breasted, I stood there, and someone put the bowler hat on my head. With the lipstick, someone else wrote IO SONO LIBERO—“I am free”—on the mirror and stuck it in my hand. Someone else took the lipstick and wrote END across my forehead. A guy took Polaroids of me and stuck them in my hand, like playing cards. Things got more intense. A couple of people picked me up and carried me around. They put me on the table, spread my legs, stuck the knife in the table close to my crotch. Someone stuck pins into me. Someone else slowly poured a glass of water over my head. Someone cut my neck with the knife and sucked the blood. I still have the scar. There was one man—a very small man—who just stood very close to me, breathing heavily. This man scared me. Nobody else, nothing else, did. But he did. After a while, he put the bullet in the pistol and put the pistol in my right hand. He moved the pistol toward my neck and touched the trigger. There was a murmur in the crowd, and someone grabbed him. A scuffle broke out. Some of the audience obviously wanted to protect me; others wanted the performance to continue. This being southern Italy, voices were raised; tempers flared. The little man was hustled out of the gallery and the piece continued. In fact, the audience became more and more active, as if in a trance. And then, at two A.M., the gallerist came and told me the six hours were up. I stopped staring and looked directly at the audience. “The performance is over,” the gallerist said. “Thank you.” I looked like hell. I was half naked and bleeding; my hair was wet. And a strange thing happened: at this moment, the people who were still there suddenly became afraid of me. As I walked toward them, they ran out of the gallery.
Marina Abramović
Military history teaches us, contrary to popular belief, that wars are not necessarily the most costly of human calamities. The allied coalition lost few lives in getting Saddam out of Kuwait during the Gulf War of 1991, yet doing nothing in Rwanda allowed savage gangs and militias to murder hundreds of thousands with impunity. Bill Clinton stopped a Balkan holocaust through air strikes, without sacrificing American soldiers. His supporters argued, with some merit, that the collateral damage from the NATO bombing of Belgrade resulted in far fewer innocents killed, in such a “terrible arithmetic,” than if the Serbian death squads had been allowed to continue their unchecked cleansing of Islamic communities. Hitler, Mao, Pol Pot, and Stalin killed far more off the battlefield than on it. The 1918 Spanish flu epidemic brought down more people than did the First World War. And more Americans—over 3.2 million—lost their lives driving cars over the past 90 years than died in combat in this nation’s 230-plus-year history.
Victor Davis Hanson (The Father of Us All: War and History, Ancient and Modern)
Instead he began moving slowly toward the people who were waiting in line to buy tickets for the New World. 'New Belgrade?' asked the man at the bus station counter and the commander had to gently but confidently repeat: 'The New World'. 'I don't see much difference there,' said the man...
David Albahari (Checkpoint)
notable
Jason Kasper (The Belgrade Conspiracy (Shadow Strike, #6))
The two countries not only turned their external gates into mechanisms of proper control but also shifted this first “line of defense” as far away from the countries’ borders as possible and into the countries of origin. Arguably, the model for this externalization of immigration control was the 1924 US Immigration Restriction Act, which made the departure of prospective immigrants for the United States conditional on a visa to be granted by an American consular office abroad and the granting of the visa conditional on passing a medical inspection—previously conducted at Ellis Island—in the country of origin.9 West Germany took steps in this direction, starting in 1957, by gradually introducing candidate interviews at diplomatic missions in Belgrade and Zagreb to assess eligibility for acceptance, an option that did not exist in other European countries where the FRG had no embassies or consulates.
Jannis Panagiotidis (The Unchosen Ones: Diaspora, Nation, and Migration in Israel and Germany)
For example, in 1965, the family of Josef K.—who, according to the BVA, was an ethnic German born in 1927 to two German parents—was not granted an entry visa because his non-German wife, Djurdja, did not speak any German and the children had “typically Slavic first names.”37 The fact that past applicants from their hometown Sokolovac in Croatia had had a good knowledge of the German language was held against this candidate. In a similar case in 1964, Emil S. and his wife, Jelka, from Slavonian Vukovar were denied entry despite the “typically German” first names of their three children—Josef, Emmerich, and Karl—because Jelka’s Croatian Volkstum was judged to be dominant in the family.38 In contrast, Stefan V., a Hungarian German man from Czerwenka (Crvenka) in Serbia was accepted, even though he had his father’s typically Hungarian surname and was registered as Hungarian in his Yugoslav identification. His son Tibor bore an equally Hungarian first name. Yet Stefan and his children spoke excellent German and, according to the embassy in Belgrade, “made a very good impression.” Therefore, their application was granted without hesitation.39
Jannis Panagiotidis (The Unchosen Ones: Diaspora, Nation, and Migration in Israel and Germany)
Sometimes applicants were given a second chance. This worked, for example, for a Hungarian German family whose application had been rejected in April 1959. When they were reexamined by the embassy in Belgrade in June 1961, it was determined that “the German Volkstum of [the mother] by now prevails in the family. The husband, who is of Hungarian descent and spoke little German in early 1959, has apparently made an effort to assimilate to German Volkstum (im deutschen Volkstum aufzugehen) and now speaks German. The daughter also speaks German—apparently she is raised the German way (offenbar wird sie deutsch erzogen).”41 This dynamic approach to Volkstum was taken even further in a case in 1962, when Anton P. and his family were granted an immigration permit based on the embassy’s judgment that “German Volkstum will soon prevail in the family.”42 One local office took this approach to its logical consequence when it supported the application of Johann and Katharina M., arguing that the husband’s German Volkstum could prevail over that of his Hungarian wife only if they came to live with his relatives in Germany.
Jannis Panagiotidis (The Unchosen Ones: Diaspora, Nation, and Migration in Israel and Germany)
I wondered whether by evoking endearing images of a common past I wouldn’t obscure the bloody images of the recent war, whether by reminding them of how Kiki sweets tasted I wouldn’t obliterate the case of the Belgrade boy stabbed to death by his coevals just because he was an Albanian, whether by urging them to “reflect on” Mirko and Slavko, the Yugopartisans of the popular comic strip, I wouldn’t be postponing their confrontation with the countless episodes of sadism perpetrated by Yugowarriors, drunk and crazed with momentary power, against their compatriots; or whether by calling up the popular refrain That’s what happens, my fair maiden, once you’ve known a Bosnian’s kiss I wouldn’t be dulling the impact of the countless deaths in Bosnia, that of Selim’s father, for instance. The lists of atrocities knew no end, and here I was, pushing them into the background with cheery catalogs of everyday trifles that no longer even existed.
Dubravka Ugrešić (The Ministry of Pain: A Novel)
capturing Belgrade in August, which gave him control over the roads to southern Hungary.
Billy Wellman (The Ottoman Empire: An Enthralling Guide to One of the Mightiest and Longest-Lasting Dynasties in World History (Europe))
Lengthy, sometimes barely comprehensible late-night e-mails from the boss, panicking about the latest crisis and the state of Sony’s business, had long been a fact of life for Pascal’s subordinates. But as stress at the office grew, these communications became even more common. “The un marvel marvel world that is rooted in humanity but instead of it being like a trilogy or a story this is the opening of a world that will be unleashed,” Pascal wrote one night at 10:48 in an attempt to figure out what to do with Spider-Man. “A little too late for me to decipher your poetry,” responded Belgrad.
Ben Fritz (The Big Picture: The Fight for the Future of Movies)
We had watched the Sacramento Kings, my favorite NBA team, playing the Indiana Pacers. The Pacers had won but it was still fun, especially since we had tickets for the third row. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Vlade Divac and Predrag Stojakovic, two Serbs playing in the Kings, waving at me and saying hello. They recognized the jersey of Divac's former team from Belgrade that I had been wearing.
Savo Heleta (Not My Turn to Die: Memoirs of a Broken Childhood in Bosnia)
Austria-Hungary’s declaration of war on Serbia would have been amusing if it had not had such tragic consequences. Since he had melodramatically closed his embassy in Belgrade, Berchtold found himself at a loss as to how to deliver the news to Serbia. Germany refused to be the emissary since it was still trying to give the impression that it did not know what Austria-Hungary was planning and so Berchtold resorted to sending an uncoded telegram to Paši?, the first time that war had been declared that way.
Margaret MacMillan (The War That Ended Peace: The Road to 1914)
People from all walks of life now fled Russia. The major centers of Russian emigration were understandably those old favorite haunts, Paris and Berlin. But Prague and Belgrade, Sofia and Riga also lured refugees. Some places treated Russians better than others did. Russians found England the worst place to go, despite the British tradition of hospitality to political refugees. The British were still reluctant to grant visas, especially to Romanovs, and Russians in London were always the last, it seemed, to get jobs.
John Curtis Perry (The Flight of the Romanovs: A Family Saga)
It started with a drink......
Lee Colvin (Belgrade to Buenos Aires – Football rivalries on a very tight budget: *** Number 1 Book ***)
Tvrđava teatra by Nightlife Belgrade Počinje 7. Balkan teatar fest: Ziki i Lodra šampioni Montreala!: Gradištu počinje "Silafest 2011": 17. Sarajevo Film Festivala: "Leto" Tuve Janson: Vek ruskih omota za bombone: Izvođenje predstave "Lari Tompson" "Ptice slobode" u Galeriji "O3one": Pozorišta i Miloša Formana: Potopili Mađare u igri za finale!: Pred nekoliko hiljada Novosađana: Kalemegdanskog parka i Beton hale "Razgovori" Emila M. Siorana:
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