How desperate do you have to be to dig up a 5–6 year old video of me—taken after cancer, major surgeries, a hysterectomy, and everything that came with it? That body saved my life. I’m proud of it. I lost that weight & then some. You, on the other hand, are still ugly. Always were. Always will be.

Can we just take a moment for a “Misty appreciation” post because dear God does she make life more bearable.

No time to be anxious about the state of the world when there’s a kitten demanding you feed her and play with her and cuddle her and give her pets but not too many pets obviously.

I genuinely do not understand how Trump shutting down the Dept of Education is even legal.

But either way, this is such a clear attack on the working and poor classes who often rely on federal grants and federal student loans for college.

I love my community so much. When I tell you guys that my phone has not stopped ringing since I went public with my diagnosis, I am truly not over-exaggerating. There is something so beautiful about knowing your community is praying for you, especially during this holy month of Ramadan.

Humbling.

My husband searched through four bookstores just to place the new Hunger Games in my hands without delay—
a quiet act of love, wrapped in pages and ink.

The sun is shining. No chemo this week, and my body feels like my own again.

Life, in moments like these, feels impossibly perfect. Alhamdulilah.

It was a vibrant mix of ethnicities, religions, genders, and identities—London in its truest form.

We danced all night, and strangers became lifelong friends.

There are many things I’ve regretted in life, but opening my heart and home to others has never been one of them.

My first year in London, my best friend/Ajša’s godmother, came to visit for New Year’s. I invited strangers and new friends, cooking and preparing for days. Then, suddenly, our little two-bedroom apartment overflowed with warmth, laughter, and life. Strangers became friends. It was beautiful.

Do join us at The Bosnia House in Birmingham for a conference on the Bosnian Genocide upon its 30th anniversary.

It will be a particularly special event and there is much on the table to discuss given the recent world events as well as the tensions in BiH.

These photos of me in 2016 has just made me feel so incredibly, disastrously and utterly old.

The glam. The effort. The looks that were served.

Who was she?

Survival is a political act. To persist, to reclaim autonomy over one’s body and identity, is to resist erasure.

On Osmi Mart, I honour the women who continue to rise, despite war, violence, oppression, & illness.

Strength is not just enduring but insisting on being seen.

Happy Intl. Women’s Day.

So, I showed more evidence. I sent 19K GBP to Bosnia last year. For the floods we raised a little less than 11K GBP. I showed my transaction history and that it left my account. I even showed my initial diagnosis discharge paperwork showing that yes, I do have cancer again and yes I had it before.

Without proof, they continued to insinuate I stole these funds. As if I would ever dare to steal from those in need and especially as if I would dare to endanger my own reputation and destroy what I have worked so hard to build: legitimacy. But others were there.

Open Letter: Bosnian Genocide & War Survivors Condemn the Genocidal Actions of the Israeli Regime.

Hundreds of us, from all backgrounds, cities & professions, have come together to condemn the ongoing genocide & crime against humanity in Israel.

Turned out phenomenal. 10/10. The meat was soooo tender, it literally melted off the bone.

I really woke up on a random Tuesday one day and decided to be the happiest person in the world and I have not had a bad day in months because of that. Everything is great and it’s going to be even better. Most importantly I am very cute!

Feels good to be back home

Oci su mi more Jadransko
Kose su mi klasje Panonsko
Sestra mi je dusa Slovenska
Ja sam Jugoslovenka

Pijem sama kahvu u gradu uz pjesmu “zasto mala sjedi sama”.