Sarajevo
Whenever I am in Sarajevo, immediately on arrival, I go to one of the many cemeteries.
I walked. I paused a moment. I realised that in the last war, too, many people around forty lost their lives.
I read the inscriptions on the graves:
1953 - 1993
Dear A, It was nice to have met you. See you soon, K.
1952 - 1992
People come into our lives
And they keep us company for a while.
Some stay with us for ever,
Because they leave their mark on our hearts
You were a very special person.
M.
As I was leaving the cemetery I received a text-message from Slovakia: "My mother has died! Marianna, Bratislava." I had met Marianna in 1985, at a discotheque on Lake Balaton in Hungary, where I was staying at a training camp with a football team I played with. Marianna had wanted to flee to the West, to come to Italy with the team, and marry an Italian, perhaps even me. I had tried to convince the coach to smuggle her over the border, but he didn't want to take the risk, and I didn't either. The Iron Curtain separated us physically, but we remained connected through letters and telephone calls. Since 1989, we have no longer felt under observation, and we visit each other every now and then.
