I spent the week leading up to the elections travelling the length of the country,…
Postcard from Jazhince: Borderland Blues
Sipping a macchiato by the stream that runs through Jazhince you could be forgiven for…
Postcard from Skopje: No Last Orders
It had grown so late on Tuesday night that it had become Wednesday morning. Two…
Postcard from Skopje: The Melancholy Revolution
“I think this is a melancholy revolution,” Giovanni said on Thursday evening, and I knew…
Postcard from Skopje: Night of the Blunt Knives
When God said to Abraham, “Kill me a son,” he was putting him on. Four…
Postcard from Kumanovo: The Chessboard and the Carnival
“This is part of a game of chess. Some make protests, others make killings,” said…
Postcard from Skopje: Rain Fails To Stop Play
Yesterday afternoon, two hours before the third evening of protest’s six o’clock kick-off time, the…