Turanj, Croatia – June 2011
The long shadows of late afternoon creep across the landscape. Voices from the nearby village drift up on the warm breeze. Every couple of minutes a car whizzes by. This was once the front line in the war, which, like so many wars, has a patriotic name.
Greenery has begun to wrestle with the architecture. Gentle and silent, it will defeat the disfigurement in the end.
Various machines of destruction and defense are assembled here, some of them home made. Necessity breeds invention. A MiG carcass is prominently displayed at the front of the group. Consequences bared for all to see.
Every pockmark is the result of a finger pulling a trigger, a target in a scope. A deadly intent. Through a window framed by a bullet-scoured wall, rubble is displayed.
Just beyond, yet forever out of reach: blue sky.