They didn't miss coming in this night either

25 April: (3:05 a.m.)

Dear Sabrina,

They did not miss coming in this night either.  At 1:10 a.m.  I was at the
computer, writing something.  My wife, Snezana, who was about to let the
Cat out to the balcony, said "Planes!".   Before I actually realised what she
was saying there was an incredibly strong explosion and all the window
panes shook, one of the windows was closed (we try to keep them all slightly
open) and it broke, cracked as a matter of fact.  Then there was a series of
very, very strong thudding explosions and my Mother cried out  from the inside of
the bedroom asking what was going on.   I said "They are bombing us again,
Mother.  Try not to worry.  Not much we can do."

So I sat down, shaking, my wife and my daughter did the same.  The skies
were lit.  16 explosions all over, especially the north-eastern part of the
City.  We felt raped (pardon the expression, but it is as close to the
truth as I can get verbally).  I guess rape is a good word here,  no other
metaphor would do.  You do not actually get to see the attacker at all, you
feel helpless, you are being molested against your will, and, most
importantly perhaps, you have that stupid and naive idea that the whole
world is OK.  However, this rape is even more morbid as it is done to a
nation, the country itself.  It is collective.  In our little familial
microcosmos, the four of us,  my elderly Mother included, had always stuck
to the principles of democracy as described in the West.  And so many
others in Serbia had done the same.  During the 1996/7 protests more than 3.5
million Serbs walked for 100 days to get the right ruling of the local
courts and the local election results right.  Seventeen   largest cities in
Serbia are now governed by the opposition.  And they are being bombed most
fiercely...  We voted for the democratic options, for peace, change,
co-existence, free-market, love and hope.  And look what they are doing to
us...

Look what they have done to my city.   Raped it.  Made it so vulnerable. 
So non-protective.  How would they feel if only one enemy plane flew over one
of their cities and bombed only one military target, surgically clean and
precise?

How would they explain to their children the fear?  Adults can, somehow,
rationalise and stuff the fear into their already structured egos, but kids
do not have any place to stuff their fear into.   So what they do is that
their fears become part of their personalities, so early on.

Thus, besides the killed, maimed, crippled, there will be scores of sick,
little kids guilty of nothing but being Serbs at a particular time in their
history. Just like some little Albanian kids are guilty of being what
they are at a particular time.  Have THEY helped these kids, both Serb and
Albanian?  NO.

Look at what they have done to both.  Look at the fatherless, motherless
kids.  Look at the homeless kids.  Look at the cities that are no more.
Pristina was once.  It is being bombed round the clock.  Pristina (what a
lovely name) has been tainted by the vanity of the mighty, of the
self-proclaimed rulers of the world.  The bridges of Serbia are being
destroyed systematically too  -- and bridges are metaphors that stand for
spanning minds, cultures, peoples, not only banks of rivers.

This is nothing but a punitive expedition. This has nothing to do with any
humanitarian help, any exodus.  THEY are punishing both sides instead of
helping them.  One man's sins and vices can never justify the magnitude of
the brutality, mindlessness, sheer ferocity and hate that we are
experiencing in Serbia today.

Dear Sabrina, love to you and your family.

Djordje