When wars end, violence stays alive. The roads toward peace and significance still lead nowhere. Perhaps the aftermath is the best time to blame those who refused to carry guns and take sides.
How do you deaden the pain of trusting somebody who is trying to destroy you? How are you to know the difference when your enemy says he loves you?
And so begins the battle for survival.
For sixteen years of my life Yugoslavia was my country, Serbo-Croatian was my language, and my name Snjezana, meaning Snow-White, was commonly Yugoslavian. Then everything changed. Territory was divided, cities were renamed, people ethnically labeled, and many of “Snow-White’s dwarfs” took guns and became soldiers.
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