Epilogue.

I have over-used the fact that starlight takes a long time to strike the eyes on this blog, and I make no apologies for that.

'Bad news comes from the stars,' I said in the past: by the time I realised that the relationship with Bluefish was in need of repair, it was already too late. Something had broken us long before, and I was only ever aware of the fracture when nothing could be done except to say my goodbyes.

'Bad news comes from the stars,' I said in the past: the domino effect whose denouement was the end of Yugoslavia had been set in motion long before most people realised that Slobodan Milosevic's June 15 speech was more than just posturing. By then, it was too late; too late to stop the movement which had already begun but had not yet completed.

To stop a punch from hitting you in the face, you must be able to anticipate. It is no use moving when the knuckles are inches from your nose. No, you need to duck while the arm is just starting its swing. In such situations, speed of thought is everything.

Even after the fist had made its impact, and Slovenia had announced its secession from the federation, people were still filling in their nationality as 'Yugoslav' on the census. This is to reject the status quo, and to embrace history. It is to look into the eyes of the dead, and smile instead of recoiling.

I wonder what the reaction would be in Podgorica, or Novi Sad, or Split, or Banja Luka, if a present-day citizen announced himself as a proud Yugoslav? You're showing your age, you fucking dinosaur - she's been dead for almost two decades!

In my mind, not only would there be laughter at the fossil making a pledge towards such a long-gone entity, but there would be questions raised as to how real Yugoslavia was anyway.

This post-First World War relic, thrown together to appease various national interests? This is how you define yourself? You are worshipping an accident!

The past has traction, and it is spine-tinglingly exciting when we feel it beneath our feet. Yet answering its call can lead only to misery, confusion, and ridicule. Better to throw the census in the bin than to answer 'Yugoslav'.