For once, there was something brilliant about the particular airline I was flying with. As I boarded the plane I was offered any seat I wanted. “Brilliant” I thought as my built in guidance systems kicked in, straight to the window wing seats! For some reason I’ve always loved to watch the wings of a plane bounce up and down as it flies. It’s almost as if I’m daring them to fall off. Not only was I given a choice of any seat I wanted, but the flight was also very quiet. An advantage of flying at silly o’clock in the morning I suppose.
The Sarajevo Rose. Something I had known about but never seen. However, as soon as my eyes set down upon it, I knew exactly what it was. As I looked at all the randomly placed red blobs on the pavement, all I could think about was what the scene would have been like 15 years earlier. The only two reminders and hints of what had been were these so-called roses on the pavement, and walls, scarred by countless impacts, lucky to have survived. The Sarajevo Rose. A reminder of the four-year siege of Sarajevo. Old mortar and shell strikes locked into the concrete with a blood like resin, keeping the shape of the scar.