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At the end of the eighties, Damir Uzunović traveled to Paris and stayed there for less than a year. He was twenty years old at the time, and that exile episode would be formative for the literature he would later write.
This is a biography about my father made up of memories and mere imagination. History does not exist, and neither do facts. The past is unknown.
Do you like "lovelies"? Whatever you think about them, you'll enjoy this superb pastiche of trivial romance novels.