Genetics, the primary surroundings,
heritage, values – none of these.
Only the welcoming eyes.

Silence gravitates in the village,
the wolves haul far too close.
Her scarf, my skirt. A deceit.
Only the body, when lucky, grows old.

Dad knew the feeling of responsibility well.
He had been sending money back home since he was a teenager.
But was that really home?

Even those, who have appropriated the most, are poorer. They fenced their property, leaving out everything else.
While before, everything was everyone’s.
We have lost so much when they started to give us back.

The Balkans: wolves to their neighbours will become sheep of the foreigner.