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TIMELESS “MOSTAR RAINS”
MANITOBA HYDRO PLACE, WINNIPEG, MANITOBA, CANADA
the building and supply water for the Museum’s surrounding reflecting pools as well as mobile PV solar panels which can be adjusted depending on the sun’s rays throughout the day.
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Architects: Studio 505 The first office building with zero carbon emissions, Pixel consists of a rooftop clad
VERTICAL FOREST, MILAN, ITALY
with both fixed and mobile PV panels as well as vertical wind turbines. What’s more, is that the building was built using uniquely designed concrete that contains half of the embodied carbon traditional concrete has while keeping the same architectural features.
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Architects: RMJM Milano The building will host offices, meeting rooms but also a restaurant and an auditorium. Its sustainability features include outside greenery that contrasts solar radiation, making the inside of the building cooler and reducing the need for air conditioning. There is also a void in the atrium that allows for natural light to illuminate the inside of the building, making for reduced use of electricity, most of which is renewable.
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BULLITT CENTER, SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, U.S.
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ONE ANGEL SQUARE, MANCHESTER, UK
ture is incorporating all the sustainable features a building can have: net-zero energy, net-zero water, net-zero carbon, composting toilets, toxic-free materials, an enticing stairway and 80% daylighting using high-performance windows. Meaning that 100% of the building’s energy comes from renewable sources.
A gentleman with a bow tie and polite manners. His poems are just the same: picturesque, aromatic, beautifully worded, romantic... He stopped counting how many books he’s published, both for adults and children, anthologies, parodies, essays... He’s edited magazines, written librettos for ballet and opera, screenplays for films and television shows... His books have been translated into countless foreign languages, while his poem “Mostar Rains” is known around the planet and recited with enthusiasm in many countries.
In our country, Mostar Rains was an interpretation challenge to reciters, actors, writers… It has been recited by Rade Šerbedžija, Gojko Šantić, Ivan Bekjarev, Gidra Bojanić, Miloš Žutić, Dragan Nikolić, Zoran Radmilović, Miroslav Antić, all in their own unique way, while experts say that it was done most beautifully by Rale Damjanović. His poems have been recited at school performances, while now they’ve have found their place in Serbian language textbooks.
Apart from books, as a child he was also interested in sport. Specifically, boxing and football. In the Nevesinje bazaar, he formed a team for mini football, which is still talked about today. He was close to Josip Broz Tito, for which he has never been forgiven by some individuals. But that doesn’t bother him.
He has always written and read. And still does so today...
Although you were born in the Herzegovina town of Nevesinje, many think that it was in Mostar where you came into the world back in 1945?
Duško Trifunović once said, speaking at some literary forum, that the people of Nevesinje won’t forgive me for having never been a municipal writer, but rather a county one – thinking that Mostar adopted me after “Mostar Rains” and Mostar was a county and Nevesinje a municipality.
What are your earliest memories of childhood, your family, city etc.?
Back in my high school days, I memorized one thought of Vladan Desnica: “Childhood – that handful of immortality”. I still think that childhood is the cradle of naivety, innocence, the all-encompassing beauty of growing up, regardless of possible poverty and personal misfortune, if they happen during those years. I had a happy childhood, bathed in the care of five golden sisters and two sisters and two cousins. Nine children in a big house with heavy green Turkish partitions on the ground floor, lots of windows and a small city park and city cistern opposite the house. We were separated from the city post office by the Zubčev alley, which is still paved with marble dating back to ancient times, and we could hear the sound of the Jedreški stream flowing under the alley.
And then my stepmother’s son, Slobodan, who was two years older than me, arrived from his uncle’s in Nikšić. Later, my brother, a successful doctor, moved to the other coast early on. Of my sisters Zora, Milica, Danica, Janja and Bojana, and Vasa and Ljubica’s daughters, Mila and Branka, and two stepbrothers, Aca and Miloš, the only ones who are still alive are Milica in Smederevo and Branka in Nevesinje.
The town was beautiful, small, nestled in the hills. Did everyone know each other?
The postman meant a lot to me as I awaited letters from my first crushes during secondary school, from Vera from Osijek and from Ljiljana from Belgrade, two policemen, city electrician Toša Šipovac, two tailors, Vaso and Meho, photographer Senad Dugalić, two cobblers, Mišo and Sveto, two barbershops, Kazazić and Haznadarević, a hotel, two taverns, JNA [Yugoslav National Army] House and a large barracks that housed more soldiers than half the population of the town. The cinema in JNA House and Lazo Turkalj, who “played
MILENA, PERO AND MEJ ZUBAC
films” and was, after the Pašajlić brothers, Mladen and his brother and Ilija Dugalić, goalkeeper of the football club Sloga, and later Velež. A small school for up to four classes in the centre, and with a large primary school next to the park. The pupils’ dormitory across the street from my window, where war orphans and other kids without parents lived, the Jedreški stream, which flowed through the town like a small river, a chemist’s, clinic, doctor Muftić and dentist Jugo, several shops, Zema (Zemaljski warehouse) and lots of greenery and fields of flowers. An Orthodox church, a Catholic church and a mosque. Father Risto Mužijević, who always had silky sweets in the pockets of his robes, which he handed out to children. The garden of Salko and Emina Eminović, across the street from the mosque, was surrounded by a high wall that contained the only drinking fountain in the town. Father Obren often took me to Salko’s Garden. He and Salko would nibble on snacks, drank hot brandy, sometimes sing old Dalmatian or Herzegovinian songs. I would play with the glittering droplets thrown by the fountain onto the green rose garden. And all that remains of all that is my poem “House of Eminović”: (“House of Eminović opposite the mosque, the first sharbat drinks and the first okra, / the first Eid al-Adha and the first sacrifices, dry almonds, on the Sheriff’s chains…”)
