The trees There is something about the trees here. Something about the neon green phosphorescence of the Kosovan springtime. It looks unreal, twinkling in the dancing light like a dream. I sit drinking coffee with new friends, watching children play at a special fun village cut between the trees, complete with waterslides. In Kosovo, the whole country seems to come out on weekends to bask in the sunlight and play Frisbee. Various tidbits According to my friend Burim, people drink coffee here all day long. Forty percent are unemployed, so they just sit there drinking coffee, talking and admiring the ladyfolk. All the bars seem to be full all day, mostly by unemployed Muslim men who religiously avoid alcohol. There are casinos everywhere, all of which have photos of scantily clad women, lying on tables. Honestly,
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