This is a flower
that bloomed in fire,
its petals not fragrant,
but final.
No vase,
no grave,
no last goodbye.
Only footsteps now,
hurrying past what once screamed.
Only silence,
remembering louder than war.
Kneel,
and the city will tell you
what it costs
to keep blooming.
This post is part of the “Imperfect Light” series – you can read the introduction here.
Onima koji ovu zemlju zovu domom, i onima koji njeno sjećanje nose u sebi—
Nisam Bosanska.
Nisam odrasla sa pričama ove zemlje
urezanim u porodične zidove.
Nisam izgubila dom ovdje.
Nisam preživjela rate.
Ali kada sam dosla u Bosnu i
Hercegovinu u proljeće 2024, nešto u
meni se probudilo – tiho, ali snažno. Kao da sam stigla na mjesto koje me čekalo cijelo vrijeme.
Nisam došla da uzmem.
Došla sam da slušam.
Fotografije u ovoj seiji nastale su isključivo putem mog telefona – ne kao izjava, već kao odraz mog načina gledanja: jednostavno, instinktivno, i s onim što mi je bilo u rukama.
Pjesme su napisane naknadno, ne da odjasne slike, već da odaju počast onome što je ostalo neizrecčeno.
Ovaj projekt nije dokumentarni. Nije politička izjava.
To je, jednostavno rečeno, ljubavno pismo – ispisano u svjetlosti koja nije bila savršena,
u tišini koja još uvijek odjekuje,
u divljenju koje još uvijek traje.
Narodu Bosne i Hercegovine:
Ako sam nešto pogrešno prikazala,
Dobrodošla je vaša ispravka.
Ako sam dotakla nešto sveto, nadam se
da je to bilo s poštovanjem.
A ako sam odala počast makar jednoj
uspomeni – onda je ovaj projekt imao smisla.
Hvala vam što ste mi dopustili da vidim vašu zemlju – i da je osjetim.
Tokom narednih sedmica, dijelit ću djeliće serije Imperfect Light – fotografiju po fotografiju, pjesmu po pjesmu.
Svaka od njih fragment sjećanja, trenutak tišine, ljubavno pismo ispisano sjenom I preživljavanjem.
Ako želiš koračati ovim putem sa mnom, možeš se pretplatiti ispod istražiti arhivu vlastitim tempom.
To those who call this land home, and to those who carry its memory—
I am not Bosnian.
I did not grow up with the stories of this
land etched into my family’s walls.
I did not lose a home here.
I did not survive the war.
But when I came to Bosnia & Herzegovina
in the spring of 2024,
something inside me stirred—
something quiet and immediate, as if I
had finally arrived somewhere that had
been waiting for me all along.
I did not come here to take.
I came to listen.
The photographs made in this series were made entirely on my iPhone – not as a statement, but as a reflection of how I see: simply, instinctively, and with whatever I have in my hands.
The poems were written afterward, not to explain the images, but to honour what they left unsaid.
This project is not a documentary. It is not a political statement.
It is, quite simply, a love letter – written
in light that was imperfect,
in silence that still echoes,
in awe that still lingers.
To the people of Bosnia & Herzegovina:
If I have gotten anything wrong, I
welcome your correction.
If I have touched anything sacred, I hope
it was with care.
And if I have honoured even one memory—
Then this project has meant something.
Thank you for letting me see your country – and feel it.
Over the coming weeks, I’ll be sharing pieces from Imperfect Light – photo by photo, poem by poem.
Each one is a fragment of memory, a moment of stillness, a love letter written in shadow and survival.
If you’d like to walk this journey with me, you can subscribe below or explore the archive at your own pace.
Thank you for reading with an open heart.
Monday Made Me Do It 