Iluzija

In the years after Macedonia’s hard‑won independence, the town of Veles feels suspended between the remnants of a hopeful past and a present that offers little more than shadows. The streets hum with the clatter of trains and the low‑key desperation of families trying to scrape together a future, while a Nietzschean whisper—“Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torments of man.”—lends the air a palpable melancholy. Into this austere landscape wanders Marko, a thirteen‑year‑old poet whose imagination burns brighter than the dim streetlights that line his neighborhood.

Marko lives in a crumbling home by a railway yard, his world shaped by a father lost in a gambling habit, a mother subdued by hardship, and an older sister whose own struggles echo the turbulence around them. The constant pressure of school life is compounded by a bully whose presence feels as inevitable as the rail tracks themselves. Seeking solace, Marko retreats to a nearby train graveyard, where he passes the idle hours arranging chess pieces and letting verses form in his mind. It is there that a Bosnian language teacher, Mustafa, discerns the young boy’s poetic gift and gently nudges him toward a chance that could carry his words far beyond the soot‑stained walls of Veles.

Yet the city’s stark reality also summons a more enigmatic guide—a scarred soldier known only as Paris. Their meetings in the silent yard blend quiet mentorship with a harsher, survival‑oriented counsel, hinting at paths that stray far from lyrical reverie. The film’s tone wavers between the delicate cadence of poetry and the grinding grit of daily survival, painting a portrait of a youth caught between the yearning for artistic ascent and the pressing need to belong in a world that offers little mercy. As Marko stands at the crossroads of hope and self‑acceptance, the audience is left to wonder which of the two forces will ultimately shape his destiny.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 10:10