For this song, I thought about all the covered ladies in my city. I noticed way more girls and young women wearing hijabs. When I went to school, that wasn’t the case. Also, there were a lot of strangers coming from other countries to study, on student exchange, or whatever. It was autumn and a lot of leaves were around, so the entire song is in those colors.
”I still remember the roads,
But I don't know their names,
I still miss those walks,
The opening is nostalgic. I thought about them a little bit. Do they remember their own cities where they grew up? Did the names of the streets change like here? Walks from school to home with friends—all those memories kind of fade as one ages and priorities change.
”Colorful trees surround the road,
I feel the leaves as I walk,
From the memories into reality. Walking down Vilsonovo, leaves everywhere, the river, being careful not to slip since I'm kind of old these days (or so I feel). And as I walk, that feeling comes—like everything will be fine.
Life forced me far away.”
Into the chorus: shit happens. For some, life changes drastically, so it got me thinking about how those girls adapt to this city. Sarajevo is multicultural, but not an easy place to live in. Did they come here looking for a better life, or are they just passing through? Someone couldn’t stay because of this or that. Maybe some love got them heartbroken, or just life things—parents, financial status, who knows? Whatever it is, I truly wish them well.
”Stranger among strangers,
Between fears and dangers,
Long forgotten, I turned cold.”
The second part of the song is me trying to spot some differences, fear, or danger. Foreign languages—Turkish, Arabic, or Malaysian, I don’t even know. Do they speak English, or how do they communicate? Do they feel like strangers among all those strangers? Living alone can be challenging with prices these days and everything. Many just commit to careers or jobs; they forget about everything else. This part is just me wondering.
”Had everything I needed,
Here is where the wondering takes me. Some of the girls I grew up with went to Western countries. They always argue about how the culture is toxic. Working 12 hours a day? WTF? So, no peace, just the money. Under different circumstances, I would say whorish, but pssst.
I will choose home over a dream,
And finally be who I want to be.”
Last but not least: the closure. It is more like a wish. Or more like the foolish dreams of the young girls I used to know. A happy family, a coffee shop, or something. I truly hope they have found these things, and for all other similar girls, I hope your wishes come true.