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Zvučne biografije koje sam u proteklim godinama svojeg života imao prilike pročitati uvijek su bili životopisi umrlih ljudi. Svim biografijama ljudi koji su živjeli u vrijeme kada sam njihove biografije čitao uvijek je nešto nedostajalo. Bile su mi pomalo nedorečene. Stoga ne očekujem da moja biografija bude nešto naročito zvučna, i dorečena. Prema mojim zadnjim informacijama, još uvijek živim.

Ovo što pišem neka bude priča za koju se kaže “eto, ispričao si”. Nije da ne volim o sebi pričati, prosto mi to nema neku praktičnu vrijednost. Volio bih uvijek ispričati nešto novo, ispričati neku novu storiju, osim pričanja o sebi koji se teško mijenja. Volim se tetošiti mišlju da sam pripovijedač, čovjek od pisane riječi; tek onda može se nazrijeti potpuno mašenje teme kada samo pričam o sebi.

Ovaj zapis nije ni autobiografija, jer jednom sam 2009 godine napisao roman nazivom “Crvena jakna sa kapuljačom”. To je moja životna priča; moja autobiografija. I ispričala je ono sve što na mojim plećima više nije moglo ostati.

Rodio sam se 1986. u Zvorniku. Od oca Jusufa i majke Husnije iz Drinjače. U životu, za pravedan život poslije njih dvoje niko mi više i nije trebao. Učili su me na primjerima zlih koliko čovjek ne smije biti zao. I ne bi dugo, kad smo svetroje prošli i pokazni ekperiment ljudskog zla – agresiju na Bosnu i Hercegovinu koja je pošla baš preko naših, zvorničkih vrata.

Svako u životu ima porciju svoje zle sudbine. Moja je bila Srebrenica. U kojoj mi ugasnu očev životni plamen.

Nakon svega živim u Sarajevu, gdje se iškolah na ponos majčin, na ponos svojih profesora.

Trenutno radim ono što moram, jer vrijeme je nakaradno. Pomičem granice svojih mogućnosti, i otkrivam svoje zatomljene talente. Sve u međuvremenu popunjavam čitanjem i pisanjem.

Za život samo tražim mira, hljeba, soli i vode, iskrenosti, morala i pravde.

Nije valjda puno?

***

Sound biographies which I have had a chance to read over the past years of my life, were always obituaries to dead people. There was always something missing to those biographies of a living person, they were always unsaid. Therefore I do not expect my biography to be much sound, nor all-said. According to my last information, I am still living.

Let this that I write here be the story for which we say “there, you said it”. Not that I do not like talking about myself, it just does not have any practical use. I strive to tell something new, some new, untold stories, besides talking about self which can hardly change. I pet myself thinking I was a storyteller, a man of script; thus one can have a glimpse of an ill-starred topic in talking about self.

This note is neither an autobiography, since I have once, in 2009. written a novel titled “Red Hooded Jacket”. That novel is my life story; my autobiography. And it has told everything I could not bear on my back anymore.

I was born in 1986 in Zvornik. Fathered by Jusuf, mothered by Husnija, both from Drinjača. Through life, for a just living, they were the only ones I needed. They thought me with examples of evil people of how person must not be evil. And not quite long after that, we had to go through practical experiment of their lessons on human evil – aggression on Bosnia and Herzegovina which entered precisely on our door in Zvornik.
Everyone has its share of evil destiny in life. Mine was Srebrenice. Where I have lost my father’s life flame.

In the end, I am living in Sarajevo, where I have gone through schools to my mother’s pride, to the pride of my teachers.

Temporarily I do what I have to do, for the times are ill. I move boundaries of my capabilities, discover my suppressed talents. Everything in between I fill up with reading and writing.

I only ask peace, some bread, salt and water, honesty, morality and justice to live.

That isn’t much, right?