Echo

Mileta Jakshich ‘Ghosts’

Like a ghost of a blurred giant wall,
Autumn mist hides my view all in all,
And escape from my view outlines,
Only branches are heard rustling in haze.
Not a glimmer. Just darkness reigns.
Where’s the village? Where’s church? — I gaze
In deep fog every line sticks and drowns,
And people like shadows, in silence so dumb
In kingdom of whitish smoke are not numb:
Swarm and move as an echoing flow.
It seems to me as so
I just fancy that people all
And they fancy invisible me also.

Echo of the young memories has soaked up the breath of the earth and the whisper of rivers, people’s shake-hands and tears of their loss. Random events have resulted in a multi-year journey through the Balkan land — Serbia. Just in order to repeat again in13 years.
Those things that seemed simple and clear in young age, now have turned into confusion. Wars, lasting in this region for almost 10 years, exhausted people, disheveled hair of Mother-earth, scattered soul mates through strange shores lapped by an invisible tear.
And only the scale of passion has remained the same! To love and kill, to suffer and celebrate: this is what stabs the eyes and blurs in a moment all growing up years. Vibrant youthful blood is splashing in the tents and ‘kafans’, in bookmaker’s shops and football fields. And You feel yourself as an old (not to say ancient) woman with the camera of the same age, who is trying to follow this scary-fun celebration of life.
Three weeks. Eight cities and villages. Thirty-five black-and-white films. And no any moment of calmness.
Series ‘Echo’ are short stories of a great travel through the districts of Eastern Serbia from Novi Sad to Priboj. The author shoots village festivals and everyday life of cities, that still remember the smell of war, but has already tasted the fruit of ‘the world’. Been nostalgic about the country where she has spent many months in her youth wandering and hitchhiking from one roadside motel to another the author is looking with an assistance of the camera for the spirit of her past, but the road leads her to people she does not recognize at all.