I’m currently reading Stockholm Syndrome, by Igor Klikovac (translated by Igor Klikovac & John McAuliffe).

Igor Klikovac is a poet whose work is as shaped by his Sarajevo roots as by his travels: the poems, often up in the air, between places, among the clouds that increasingly pass over European nations, are brilliantly observed, ironic and densely material, then spaciously open to what he misses and remembers and can do justice to.