Unlike most capital cities in Europe, Pristina is home to the odd wandering cow, grazing on the meagre roadside pasture. 

Placing the statue of Alexander the Great in the centre of Skopje is an unintentional allegory for the end of transition in Macedonia.

A friend and fellow expat living in Sarajevo told me he might transfer to a different city next year. “I like Sarajevo but there is hardly any cultural life,” he said, and complained about the lack of concerts and weak alternative music scene.

On the same day, almost two months ago, when the uproar started about the shooting of Angeline Jolie’s film in Sarajevo, I attended a controversial exhibition in Berlin.

I wanted to write a blog about culture and what we (the people in small towns) are faced with when it comes to culture. After initially wanting to blame authorities and those close to them, I shifted my thinking into blaming myself. I would not worry about these thoughts too much; they are just a reaction-coming-late to the poor election results.

I remember watching the Farm in Mali Rit as a series when I was a kid. There are sentences and names from it that we still use.

When I arrived in the Trg Susan Sontag, the square in which the theatre sits, I was almost the only person there. In front of the theatre, some technicians were setting up hot-lights and camera equipment, while a handful of curious office workers, presumably journeying home, were milling curiously about; otherwise, though, the place was deserted.