Rachak, Kosovo. 1.1999. Massacre
“To Rachak,” I said. “There was a battle there yesterday. Let’s go see what really happened there.”
“Just a minute,” said Nasser, taking out large white pages with PRESS printed on them. He stuck the pages to one of the side windows and to the windshield with cellophane tape. I did not know whether this was a good idea in a country where the life of a journalist in Sarejevo was worth $500 to a sniper who hit the target.