DAY FOURTEEN OF THE SIEGE OF DOBRINJA. Adem Kahriman is writing a book. Adem lives on the fifth floor; I live on the fourth. Our windows share a view of Sarajevo’s airport and the Igman hills beyond. The hills change colour constantly, day and night, and are always beautiful. The snowy peaks of the mountain of Treskavica sometimes appear through the mist. Adem likes the snow. He is fifty-two years old. He wants to write a book which will prevent the crimes that have already happened in the past.

What kind of man is Adem Kahriman?

He was born in Sarajevo. But to say that is a little confusing: How can anyone be born in Sarajevo? He is not fair-skinned. But that is not right either. Maybe this would be best: hair greyish, no moustache or beard, features regular, no personal marks.


Zagreb
Memoirs of a Bootlegger’s Son