Ghosts of Pervanova ...

Our one room apartment was off the Radunica - it formed part of the ground floor of a tall stone house - barred windows looked out upon a narrow alleyway, not more than a two or three yards wide - this obscure  passage, the Pervanova, became very familiar to us -

There was Meerko, across the way - Ivo had told us - Meerko is my friend - I drink coffee with him - we learned that Meerko was Swedish - he would sit, in his shorts, with his grey rug and bare chest, reading and drinking red wine - his tiny courtyard was directly opposite our doorway -

Ivo had said that Meerko might invite us over for a drink - but despite my nodding and saying dobar dan, we were only treated to a cagey smile -

Families would put out their washing to dry - tablecloths and shirts were like poignant flags - a few houses down, there was an open space, shaded by some small trees - sprays of purple blossom, perhaps bougainvillea, were stirred by a faint breeze - the air smelled of sun bleached stone - I could hear a radio playing behind thick curtains -

Kids would play in the alleyway - a toddler, perched on top of a red plastic train, was pushed along by his skinny older brother - the toy train bounced and juddered over the warm paving stones - I expected, any moment, to see him fly off, to hear his piteous roars of pain -

At the top, just below the steps up to the Radunica, there was a house with an open doorway - you could hear the noises of housework and cookery when you went by - small yellowy gold stars had been glued to one of the windows -

Anne once stole a glance into the dark interior - she saw an old lady, sitting upright on a kitchen chair - the room was bare and frugal - she had to look away, before the ghosts swirled out - they would have danced around her, whispering their precious stories -