It was a tragedy that could only find the true feeling in me when I could think about it. In early childhood it was impossible to understand and understand. Only in mature male years I realized that departure of a man who realized that everything was over and that hope was gone.

That pregnancy of affairs, the narrowing of the small space of human destiny, to my excitement, I felt that my whole business and all that I knew and felt about the tragedy seemed all waking up in me in a new way.
Suddenly, it seemed to me that I was doing my whole life, that it was just the need to tell my own tragedy.

With these sentences, a man who has been killed by a father during the Second World War is feeling the tragedy that marked him and his life permanently. The feeling is still shared by many even today, even though the man who was in the war that ended before 73 was a boy still alive.
But as long as the war passed, it was as if it was constantly being renewed and it seemed to be returning us all the time. Or we come back to him from some inexplicable masochism.
Thus, Zagreb returned in the form of another debate on naming the square. This time the name of Enver Čolaković is controversial.

Vilim Matula initiated the moral dilemma and opposition to the proposal to call the square on a man who was a cultural adherent NDH in Hungary at one time. The fact that Čolaković, and anybody else, did any duty at NDH time no matter what the duty, and later in life, for Matula and the New Left, enough to denounce such persons of such honor forever.
Esad Čolaković was raised in defense of his father, pointing out that neither the communists had condemned his father nor saw the Ustasha as seen by their present ideological followers.
Blinded in any shade, for Matulus and the likes of all those who did not go back to the forest during the NDH and the partisans were Ustasha or Ustasha sympathizers. Criminals, not people. There is a red thing for them.
The exclusivity and the need for ideological opponents and targets to be dehumanized and completely and permanently socially abolished is growing unfortunately alike both on the right and in the leftmost part of our devoted society is far more a problem than what kind of street will we call.
The boy from the beginning of the text had the width that no people claim today to protect and sacrifice his father.
He also had a romantic desire for vengeance, and he was welcomed when he testified to the trial of one of the perpetrators with the mother after the war.
He did not know what he was with his wife and was trying to get the court president to read her fate. I was still a child, but it was humanly excited: is it possible that in one animal, literally in one animal, and he looked like a huge neck, there were some human feelings. I watched him, followed his reactions. He saw a terrible fight on his face.
He had a kind of devil soul.
He struggled to find out what was with his wife. At that trial I was not blinded by hatred. I was overwhelmed by the child's curiosity for a man's experience and an attempt to understand.
I tried to understand if something so human could happen to something so human, something that I can live with.
I did not hate - he recalled the boy of the cathars he had experienced, just different than the one he was expecting.
Many jumped too fast and joined Matul in condemning a man they knew only for one year as cultural attaches to NDH in Hungary. Some of their convictions were withdrawn after they learned that Čolaković was a post-war internationally award-winning writer, never condemned or accused by either of the Communist authorities and whose family hid the Jews in the War of Sarajevo, for which they were contemplating him for the Just People among peoples.
However, most of them remained consistent in their condemnation, as well as in the position that someone was always upset if he was an Ustasha once, and the Ustasha was so easy to become in their eyes. As a communist or a chetnik becomes easy to them in the eyes of their ideological rival and human doubles.
He is concerned about the ease of condemning what a plague is spreading with this society. He is concerned about this tendency to revitalize anyone who disagrees with us or our imagination of man and the world. He worries much more than names on a table.
He's worried because it leads to ease of killing.
That a boy stays without a father.
And when we are already discussing the streets and squares of this city, one tablet certainly deserves a boy who saw a man in the villain who killed his father while many do not want to see him either in the writer because he was a cultural attaché for a short but bad time wrong place.

Izet Hajdarhodzic also deserved the plays he gave to Zagreb and the actors he had brought up for him. Zagreb has not yet finished it. But I guess it will be up to us once and for all. If we survive animal discussions by then.