My village, Michiye, was the most beautiful village in the world.
The beginning of the village was on the flat land, followed by the
small rolling hill, about one mile long and less than half a mile wide.
The second hill, about four miles long, was in the middle of the
village. The third, and highest, hill was on the border of my village
and the next village. Between the hills there were beautiful creeks
with clear and drinkable water and lots of small fish. If you looked
from the distance, Michiye looked like a forest; however, it was not
a forest, all trees were fruit trees. You could not find anywhere in
the whole world such sweet cherries like we had.. The pear trees were
ower sixty feet high and took two men with arms extended to reach
around the trunk of the tree. In the middle of the second hill was
cemetery and a small church with a large bell. That bell woke up the
people every morning at sunrise. All the houses were small but warm.
People started fires early in the morning in the wooden stove, and
by the smoke from the chimneys, you could see who woke up the earliest.
Every houshold had a dog, a few goats, some sheep, several chicken, a
cow, one or two horses, and cat. All these animals made different
noises during the day. There were lots of wells, where people got
their drinking water. Usualy, the girls went and got the water. On
the way and back, they would sing loudly. Everybody would sing, not
only girls. I never saw in any other place nor any part of the world
such happy people. I was happy too.
 (This is a part of my book "I remember Michiye," but
that beautiful village with 104 houses does not exist
any more because of the war.)

Tekst od Milana Corkovic iz Amerike