2/3 ”It was the 8th of July 1995, and we could sense the fall of Srebrenica. I could hear the sounds of shots being fired. My mother, my sisters, and I went to the UN-base to seek protection. We spent a couple of days sitting on concrete floors and waiting for a truck or a bus that would take us to the safe territory. It was chaotic. The Bosnian Serb army was moving freely around the UN base, spreading fear. My father and uncle, as well as other men that we knew, decided to go through the forest because they were afraid to be captured. Before we left, my mother packed a bag with some items. Amongst them were these knitting needles, my uncle had made from metal wires of an old umbrella, with which I’ve learned how to knit. Before saying goodbye to my father, I gave him a magnifying glass. It wasn’t something he could use, but he put it in his pocket anyway, and he made a promise that he would give it back to me once we reunite. After saying goodbye, we went to the UN-base. We spent a few nights at the base until we got transported to the safe zone in Tuzla.”