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The following pages are torn from the book of the people's revolution. From the book? No, from the womb, from the veins, from the bloodstream, from the roots of life. They are the history of love.
The book of poems by Irena Skopljak Barić Moja begins unexpectedly with its ending, a decisive point that is a conclusion, appropriation and dedication, but shares them equally with others, "with my own".
Fusions in search of fragments of identity, in a combination of verses and prose fragments, are at the forefront of this collection.
This is a collection in which the city becomes an interlocutor, a space whose streets, parks and courtyards become places of encounter (with oneself).