My life-long work of performance art is to somehow maintain my original passport: notwithstanding the life and opportunities of a techno-nomad.
I used to have a proper passport from the “Socialist Federation Republic of Yugoslavia,” and a fine, diplomatic one, too. At the time that was the most-desired passport in the black market, requiring the fewest travel-visas from any other country. It was a diplomatic passport from a buffer-state, a Cold War cushion-country between the East and West, between the imperial walls of USSR and USA .
Today my travel document is a Serbian passport, one of the worst passports in the whole world, from a small post-war country in transition to nowhere, hoping to make its way among the power-players of the Russian Federation, the European Union, and expansive China, the militant Turks, and other small, rival Balkan states that used to be our fellow-citizens. Marshal Tito…
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