The Texture of War
Imagine to yourself a gloomy city, all burning with brimstone and noisome pitch, full of citizens who are unable to leave it.
St. Francis de Sales, in Meditation VII: Of Hell
Leah and I watch a short movie about the 1991 siege on Dubrovnik. In it, we saw people clustered in doorways and pressed against walls as they watched the attack on their city. Buildings burned in the background. When I read St. Francis’ description of hell, I thought of Dubrovnik.
When I traveled to the former Yugoslavia, reminders of war were all around me.
I saw shells of buildings, or were they shelled buildings, or both?
I’m the kind of person who averts her eyes in war movies, but I couldn’t avert my eyes there.
I drank it up, storing far more images in my mind than I did on my camera.
War leaves a texture all its own. Even 25 years later.
And here’s what it looked when we were there:
Rebuilding brings hope.