Noz Page #7

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When he comes from back you shoot on them.

Moslems, f*** you who persude you!

Serbs, I f*** you in your brain!

Sikter, bastards! Sikter!

Moslems, Serbs, I f*** you in your wars.

-Sikter, basterds! Sikter!

-Efendija!

-Sikter!

-Halile, go away!

Come back! Come back, doctor!

Alije, where are you?

Come, come you idiot!

-Who are you? People should die when

you are saving Turks! -You killed such a man.

-Who are you?

Ok, doctor, they send you to save my

soldiers or Balije? Are you their or our?

-Doctor can not choose whom is he going to cure.

-What are you, some dick? Some pacifist?

Why dont you sell them that sh*t?

Serb is going to cure Serbs!

He was killed when he was taking the wounded.

Look at this doctor, he was killed for hours.

First in the knees, than few in body. He is laying few

meters from you are yell. He is calling, praying.

Or he kills himself, or you kill him.

Do you see this? This is mine.

Do you see this one? This is mine too.

For every wound one of their. In the same place.

-Craziness comes from that.

-Craziness comes from home for orphan children.

Craziness comes from knowledge that your mother was raped

after you were born and that everything is killed and burned.

Craziness comes from nightmares and night pissing.

From that too. Is it now same whom are you going to cure?

-This cannot be.

-What cannot be?

You can not be the one who is written here.

This is falsification.

-You are spy.

-What is happening with you?

Check these documents, immediately!

You didnt had luck when you came to me,

my friend.

-Name? -It is written in documents.

-Dont tell me "its written". I asked: Name?

-Ilija. -Second name? -Yugovich.

-Father? -Bratomir. -You are joking me!

Its confirmed on phone, they say everything is ok.

He is ours. Doctor in the second unit.

-Go directly! F*** your phone! Go personally!

-Yes Sir!

-Doctor Ilija, doctor Balija is... Who are you?

-There is no difference. Choose.

There is difference. F*** you! There is!

You are not Yugovich.

From father Bratomir and mother Ljubica.

And you who are you Milosh?

You are killing, slaughtering.

Ustashes do that too.

Take your words back, you idiot.

I f*** the milk that you drunk as a baby.

-Ustashes kill all of mine.

-Mine too.

-Yours too? -Yes. -When? Where?

-In Yugovichi near Gacko on Christmas 1942. All!

-Dont lie! -I dont lie.

-Dont lie! -I dont lie!

-Do you know that I am from Yugovichi?

F*** your bloody sun. -From which?

From Nichifor. The only one. Ustashes took me

as a baby in Osmanovichi. Chetnicks saved me.

-You are Selim. -What Selim? What Selim!

-You are Selim from father Husein and mother Rabija.

Selim Osmanovic, my brother Selim.

My brother Selim.

-Where should I go now? What am I going to do?

-Like me, my Selim.

One shoe Djuro and the other Safetbeg.

And where have they brought you?

Wherever they bring me,

both of them left bloody traces.

-I'll kill myself.

-Whom are you going to kill? Milosh or Selim?

Both. There is no way back, and no in front.

Blood is in front of my eyes and which in mine?

Blood is blood. It doesnt hang from your hat or

your God, flag or name.

How? How? Not to be the one how I thought I was.

All we are what that we are not and

nobody is what he is.

-And what then?

-I dont know. Somebody should, I suppose, know.

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