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Flying above the land frozen and virgined by the snows, I start to see the scars, |
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the trenches, rows of homes, suburbs of a better life, wrecked by house-to-house combat, |
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by front lines through living rooms, gardens turned into mine fields. From this vantage point, |
embracing the totality of destruction, silenced by the winter air, we drift upon the city: Sarajevo. |
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