Slika prva - "Obećanje" Prijedor, stara kuća, rano ljeto 1977. Od samog jutra nije slutilo na dobro. Neuobičajeno raspoloženi otac i mati zujali su po kući, užurbani i djetinjasto uzbudjeni; gosti su kao nikad prije počeli dolaziti ranom zorom, kuća se punila radosnom grajom i grohotom, bilo je jasno da se sprema neko slavlje, i … Continue reading F.K. Željezničar i ja, tri sličice
Polaroid kauboj
Možda april, možda maj 1979. Otac se vratio sa prvog putovanja na Novi Zeland i donio kaubojsko odijelo meni, a polaroid aparat sebi. Donio je i materi štokakvih sitnica, i pregršt suvenira i razglednica sa nasmiješenim Maorima, ali mene ništa od toga nije zanimalo jer prosto nisam znao čemu bih prije, odijelu ili aparatu. Kameru … Continue reading Polaroid kauboj
Kliza
Ima pored naše zgrade u 92. ulici škola. Svako jutro kad podjem na posao prodjem kraj školskog dvorišta, stalno punog dječurlije, vriske, igra se košarka na fazon i za raju, sve Jordan do Curryja, po ćoškovima se skupljaju hapci oko bezobraznih videa na nečijem mobitelu, ponekad kakav usamljenik šuta fudbalsku loptu o zid, stariji se prave važni stojeći … Continue reading Kliza
Legendary tale of the real Refik Hodzic
I am not sure it was adventure that drove my ancestors to undertake life-changing journeys. More probably it was poverty and the search for greener pastures that got my grand-grand-grandfather to move from Lika to Cazinska Krajina; his son to Matrici, a village near Kozarac; and my grandfather to Prijedor. There clearly was a pattern … Continue reading Legendary tale of the real Refik Hodzic
Fear not what lies ahead a treacherous road
Remember Me
"Remember Me" is a story of rememberance and loss, of poisonous legacy of enforced disappearances in my hometown of Prijedor. It is also the first documentary film made by my daughter, Azra.
Eat. Drink. Love.
Journey to Cartagena
I am going to Cartagena. Can you believe it! I am going to Cartagena!! Yes, THAT Cartagena, the magical place on the Caribbean coast of Colombia. Don’t ask me, I can hardly believe it myself. I only wish my grandfather Redzo was alive so I could tell him. I would call him, he’d pick up … Continue reading Journey to Cartagena
Rain, sidewalk
Falcon boy
The morning humdrum of upper Broadway on a cold, crispy November morning. People rushing off to work, nagging kids being dragged to Trinity school by bemused nannies, newspaper sellers hopping on the sidewalk to keep warm, smell of coffee and fresh bagels from street carts luring passers-by still struggling to shake off the last cobwebs … Continue reading Falcon boy
Mrakovačka bb 