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Vedran Smailovic Vedran Smailovic
May, 1992, Sarajevo under siege. A city, in which spring were to waken tender buds and the wind whisper light-hearted tunes into the ears of lovers, has turned into an infernal battlefield where humanity lies, slaughtered like an ancient dragon, bleeding, suffering from inconceivable pain and fear.
A mortar shell strikes into what’s left of sanity and makes the crowd on a market place, who has lined up for some food, lose theirs. Twenty-two, among them children, even pay with their lives.

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