Moving north out of Knin, I followed a secondary road next to the Bosnian border. The Krajina is a bleak landscape. Far from being some bounteous promised land out of nationalist myth, it’s dry, high, rocky and very windy. A typical frontier zone where life is hard. A place that, once conquered, must be populated with settlers. Because I can’t imagine people wanting to live there.

Along the way are many destroyed homes that still sit empty.

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