Most people here identify with three particular stages of life. Before, during and after the war. Full stop. So by default, my life too has been tossed in this most unfair of baskets. The difference for me is that this wasn’t my place before the war. During it I spent half my time trying to figure out what the hell was going on and the other half ducking. But those three years of figuring and ducking have made it hard for me to call any other place home. I am often asked what was the hardest part about coming to Bosnia. The answer is simple: leaving. War changes you. There's no doubt about it. Some for better and some for worse. For a lot of us, it's a combination of the two.
The war has certainly defined present-day Bosnia in more ways than one. But I’m not particularly interested in writing about politics anymore. I’m more interested in revisiting my bizarre connection to the people and places of this tiny Balkan nation – then and now, as well as sharing with my friends and family a war story or two I haven’t yet told. There are a million 'truths' about the war the ravaged this country. I will simply tell mine as I saw it, lived it, breathed it for a long, emotional, and riveting three years.