painted white, sarajevo

III

When Elias returned to the lobby again, the person at the front desk was different. It was a taller male this time, tongue lightly poking out between his lips as he scribbled frantically onto the paper.

When Elias walked by, he looked up, throwing a quick glance at the brochure in his hands.

"Zee not many of history recorded here anymore." The man shook his head. "Only libraries—krettra, sir. Antiques shops and libraries, museums are no longer here."

Elias furrowed his brow, taking another look at the brochure. It showed a grand building on the front, brown chipped into its marble sides.

He frowned. "Are you saying this is inaccurate?"

"Ne, ne." The man shook his head, jabbing a finger at the brochure. "Samo ima...ah, pardon me, sir. Zee antique shops, zee libraries—that's all this city has left of its history. We stopped keeping records zee long time ago."

Elias broke from the man's watery blue-green gaze, flipping through the brochure. Placing it on the table, he tapped the picture of a library, lights filtering in through the windows on the picture, glossy on the page. "So, I could go here?"

The man glanced at it, then nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Thanks." Elias closed the brochure, using his finger as a bookmark. "I appreciate the help!"

"Of course." The man bowed his head, and Elias took note of the name spelled along the print of the nametag. Niko.

In the short time that he spent inside the hotel, the aura of Wistinburg hadn't changed at all. People walked by with their heads lowered, even if they were speaking to a person beside them. Water pooled in the worn cracks of the ground, reflecting the grayness of the sky.

Picking absently at his jacket, Elias flipped the brochure open to bookmarked page, his finger brushing away a small curl of lint that floated from the garment.

"The library, huh..." The words were written in the Wistinburgian, so he couldn't translate it, but he could identify the markings on the building.

A single cat was lying upon the marble-like surface of the library, fur orange and blinding. Its face was drawn up in almost a creepy smile: teeth white and chipped, eyes shades of black and white.

"Banksy was here."

Huh...you don't really see graffiti art back where I am from...

As he walked, he allowed his gaze to wander from side to side. Different colors exploded on the walls of Wistinburg. Some of the graffiti was in a language that he recognized, most of it was of something he couldn't read.

He kept an eye out for street signs that matched the brochure.

"This would be a lot easier if I had a translator..." Elias sighed.

"KRETTRA!"

The loud, sharp shout surprised Elias. A woman was gesturing excitedly, her face transforming into one of anger. She waved at the shop, eyes drawn close together and cheeks slowly rising to red. The person she was speaking to had a rather calm face, more reserved in his actions as he went upon explaining something to her.

Elias looked at the door they appeared to be arguing about and took note of the face-like smear on its upper half. Above it, the sign read something in a different language. In smaller text, below the bigger sign, it read "ANTIQUE SHOP."

It was a small shop, built into the side of bigger building and barely noticeable unless you stopped walking and took a heavy look at it. Immediately, he went about flipping through the brochure. The woman at the front desk, she mentioned something about an antique shop, didn't she?