I do not know what war is, I want to tell (my friend), but I see it everywhere. It is in the blood-soaked street in Sarajevo, after 20 people have been killed while they queued for bread. But it is also in your non-comprehension, in my uncounscious cruelty towards you, in the fact that you have a yellow form (for refugees) and I don't, in the way in which it grows inside ourselves and changes our feelings, relationships, values- in short: us. We are the war... And I am afraid that we cannot hold anyone else responsible. We can make this war possible, we permit it to happen.
Balkan Express; fragments from the other side of war, 1993.