After the first year of war, I concluded that most of the books are crap, as they never managed to materialize actual state of horror, explain human idiotic need to hate or kill, and chase people with relatively unsuccessful sniper shots ... I would grab some of Bukowski books and read them under the candle light, and remove myself from Bosnian war ... it felt great ... having no electricity, water, and eating expired dog food packaged as “humanitarian aid” ... it suited perfectly ... playing some Tom Waits in the background ... and after that masturbating while listening Sade’s greatest hits and imagining some date that will never happen.