Liminal Balkans

This article examines the Tirana Independence Monument, first inaugurated in November of 2012 on the hundredth anniversary of Albanian independence from the Ottoman Empire. The monument, designed by Visar Obrija and Kai Roman Kiklas, swiftly fell into disrepair until it was recently renovated in November of 2015. The article analyzes the monument’s function in terms of its doubled existence as a sign of perpetual natality (the possibility of the rebirth of national consciousness) and as a ruin with a spectral pseudo-presence (as an object that continually reminds us of the disjunctures that divorce the present from its historicity). It considers the way the monument’s inauguration relates to the politics of monumentality in contemporary Albania, and argues that the monument’s gradual ruination between 2012 and 2015 can be read as a particular manifestation of the history of the image in late capitalist society.Keywords: spectrality, natality, monumentality, Albania, Tirana, independenc...

Avionsku kartu kupila sam u jedan ujutro u somalijskom internet-caféu otvorenom dvadeset četiri sata na dan u prizemlju zgrade u Hackneyju, gdje sam imala garsonijeru. Nekoć sam imala laptop, ali sam ga prodala. Ne zato što mi je osobito trebao novac, iako mi je uskoro i zatrebao jer je poslije bilo nemoguće naći posao. Stavili su u novine našu sliku, znate, s odmora na Kreti, na koji smo otišli četiri i pol mjeseca nakon što smo se upoznali; ja držim nož i vilicu povrh slabo pečena odreska kao kanibal, a njegovo suncem opaljeno lice pritisnuto je uz moje, oči poluzatvorene jer smo cijeli dan pijuckali nešto na vrućini. Upravo mi je rekao da me voli i na toj fotografiji prokleto blistamo. Slika je idealna za ono što su novine htjele prikazati; posrećilo im se pa su je dobili samo zato što je visjela iznad moga radnog stola na poslu, a poslije se, naravno, nisam tamo smjela vratiti. Ali ne, nije bilo zbog novca, prodala sam laptop jer nisam mogla prestati pretraživati internet. Uzela sa...

“C'mon, let's go people, it's the coppers,” she would shout sometimes, out of the blue, but for the most part, Gracijela was saying things to herself on a loop and dragging her feet in shabby men's shoes. The day was cut off by a sharp siren – an air raid. On that note, all the doors opened. People came out of lunch-infused kitchens and headed towards our street. With her hair combed, Mrs. Doma straightened her skirt and calmly locked her green wooden door. Jelka limped fast from her street, so they met at the corner and walked together. Old men, Schmatte and Owl, both awarded the People's Liberation Movement medals for serving in the Second World War, tapped their canes across their rain-soaked courtyards. The 48 Prosciutto walked slowly with hands behind his back and seemingly indifferent, just going out for a walk, no intention of hiding from the planes. He was just passing through the street and saying hi to the neighbors: “You good, Mrs. Jele?”“All right, all right, Mr. Schmatte.”

Onoga dana kad sam navršila osam godina, moja sestra – koja nije podnosila da i na sekundu maknu pogled s nje – iskapila je cijelu šalicu izbjeljivača. Abi je imala tri godine. Prvo se osmjehnula, možda baš od gađenja, zatim je nabrala lice u preplašenu grimasu bola. Kad je mama ugledala praznu šalicu kako joj visi iz ruke, problijedjela je kao i ona.„Abi-moj-bože”, bilo je sve što je mama rekla. „Abi-moj-bože.” I još je prošlo nekoliko sekundi prije nego što se pokrenula.Prodrmala ju je za ramena, ali Abi nije reagirala. Povikala je na nju, ali Abi ni tada nije reagirala. Otrčala je do telefona i nazvala tatu, a kad je dotrčala natrag, Abi je i dalje stajala, sa šalicom što joj je visjela iz ruke. Mama joj je istrgnula šalicu i bacila je u sudoper. Otvorila je hladnjak, izvadila mlijeko i nalila ga u čašu. Zagledala se u čašu, potom je pogledala Abi pa uopet čašu te je na kraju bacila i čašu u sudoper. Tata, koji je radio jako blizu kuće, smjesta je stigao, ali mama je svejedno stigla...

In Croatia, the political changes involving most of Eastern Europe in the late 1980s and early 1990s included a war fought between 1991 and 1995. This paper aims, by examining the press releases and newspaper articles published in the Italian daily La Stampa in 1995, to show how this influential newspaper worked on shaping Italian public opinion about the war in Croatia, and to examine the extent to which well-rooted stereotypes about the Balkans played a role in the process. The application of the methods of Critical Discourse Analysis on the material has confirmed the occurrence of stereotypes expressed through several types of polarized representations, for example, the one between the good (Italy/Europe/West) and the bad (Croatia/the Balkans – associated with “primitive” nationalism and chaos). It has also shown that Italy (as part of Europe), largely saw itself as the “appointed” Western civilized neighbour towards one of its Balkan neighbours, Croatia, and worked on trying, as To...

Ne, kažem.Znam, kad kažem „ne“, to je to s nama, čist račun, rekli smo, karte na stolu, vino, keksi, humor – presuhi; klima, poljupci, zemlja za cvijeće – prevlažni. Dogovori umjesto sapunica kao kod drugih. Ne gubimo vrijeme na stvari koje nikoga ne zanimaju, čak ih ni na televiziji ne gledamo, nemamo televizor, imamo pametnijeg posla, i zabavljamo se jer znamo da se svijet ne može spasiti, mi smo spašeni samo privremeno, vremena je malo i nikada ne bismo skočili, ali osjećali smo se tako živima dok su nam se noge klatile preko ograde na terasi zgrade. Gledala sam vrhove svojih tenisica, stražnja svjetla automobila koji su se tamo dolje redali jedan za drugim poput crvenih mrava, gurali se u kolonama kroz uske ulice, noge mi još nikada nisu djelovale toliko kratko.Kao na moru na madracu na napuhavanje, rekla sam i ugrizla se za jezik, koji je viski razvezao jer nisi izgledao kao da imaš madrac na napuhavanje.Samo te voda nosi kad padneš, objasnio si, zrak te ne nosi, a ipak si bio tak...