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The Stone Fields
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TUZLA1996Wind carries the sudden smell of burning From the charred ruin of my village; The smell from which all memory rises: All weddings, harvests, dances, and celebrations, All funerals, lamentations, and dirges; All which life sowed and death took away.
--Ivan Goran Kovai, The Pit, Stanza XIN 1995 I had brought my field boots with me from America to Croatia. They were thick leather, reached mid-calf, and had steel plates over the toes so that I would not accidentally remove part of my foot with a sharpened shovel. Red Virginia dirt was still wedged in the tread