3/3 ”When we arrived, another aunt who lived there picked us up and brought us to an apartment. I remember finally having access again to electricity, bread, hot water, and food. In the following weeks, we dreaded waiting for somebody to bring news if my father was alive or not. There were rumours that men were being killed. I was only ten, yet I realized very well that there was a chance that my father wouldn’t come back. We waited for seven days when suddenly we got a phone call. My sister and I couldn’t understand what was being said on the other side of the line, but when we saw our mother smile, we knew that my father had made it. When my father arrived, we were all very emotional, it’s difficult to put it into words. He lost a lot of weight, he was hungry and tired, but when he saw us, he smiled. After I hugged him, he pulled out of his pocket a magnifying glass that I had given him during our separation. We kept waiting for my uncle to come back, but he didn’t. His remains have not been found as yet. We still have these knitting needles he made. To this day, I have not been back to Srebrenica. My father invited me to walk the same route through the forest as he did 25 years ago, but I am not ready.”