So we left without any ‘pedigree’. We wanted to turn a new page. And so we were left without the “flying carpet” on which we were sitting in Sarajevo. And we wondered for decades what we were doing wrong, how come we were not able to evoke the same reaction, create the same environment, which was an urgent need for us to be able to function artistically in the fullest sense.

For us who have already been formed and accepted and in full splendour – so not at some stammering beginning – it has not been fruitful to find yourself in an environment where you are nobody and nothing.

ARTISTIC ANXIETY, the feeling of suffocation is a feeling that has implanted itself more or less from the beginning, and only takes on other forms, variations over the years and decades to come.

Only now, looking back, we have realised why everything was happening the way it did.

At first, the dominant feeling was Don Quixote’s arrogance and wonder – how come no one here recognises the same values that we had until yesterday, something we expected and thought that this goes without saying. Like a king who lost his kingdom (still expecting honours, but in fact, everyone looks at him with ridicule as a beggar or a madman).

Then countless futile attempts to fit in, impose, like, to start from scratch.

To total isolation and alienation.

To the bitter conclusion: We have chosen the wrong country.

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