Six years ago my partner gave me a small glass, rather bashful looking, blue hippo that apparently looked like me, not sure why. We dubbed our hippo Hugo and much like me we both lived in our confined spaces, me the world of academia, Hugo a small blue world. A couple years later and after one rather turbulent flight to Munich, the blue hippo and I find ourselves sitting outside people watching in Sarajevo, Bosnia with DU. Yesterday was the first true day of exploring the city and marveling in its beauty. The city is surrounded by beautiful green hills that almost feel like they are hugging the town below. Yesterday we visited the old Jewish cemetery, located high on the hills. The view of the city below was truly breath taking. However, as I was taking in the view the words from The Cellist of Sarajevo leapt from the pages and into my consciousness, I was standing on ground used by snipers to kill innocent civilians in the city below; the men on the hills. Behind the beauty that I had the privilege of viewing, is pain. Sarajevo bears the scars of the siege with each sniper shot and motor shelling. These scars are visible on the buildings and side walks of the city. As I looked down at the city below, blue hippo in hand, I was humbly reminded of the importance of understanding that we are literally, no matter where in the world, walking on history. I mean, how many of us (reader included) stop to ask what has passed beneath our feet?