Inside the Seminary: Saved Before I Understood Premium

The car did not stop at the last checkpoint. It continued climbing, steadily, up the slopes of Igman, and with every turn the city receded behind us — not suddenly, but with a growing sense of distance that felt almost unreal. For the first time since leaving Sarajevo, we stopped in a place called Pazarić. It was there, on the side of the road, that the priest opened the trunk of the Volkswagen Golf 2 and took out something we had not seen in a long time: bread and ham. Not canned food. Not carefully rationed supplies. Just ordinary food.

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