Sunset Strip Sarajevo
short story
Saturday, June 28th, 2014
We manage to grab a table by the window, the last one available, but we are still waiting for Stefan.
“It’s lovely to be back. I do like the Archduke,” said Julia, placing her denim jacket over the back of the chair.
The stuffed swordfish glistens on the wall and some kind of wrought iron insignia casts a shadow over the bar. “I think we got here just in time,” I said. “It’s always popular during the golden hour.”
I look up at the antler style chandelier — more wrought iron. There used to be a false ceiling stained a nicotine yellow, but at the turn of the new century it was ripped away and the lofty grandeur of the interior restored — the newly exposed ceiling with elegant mouldings a call back to the time when it was the residence of Fanny Ardagh, the famous actress who entertained the exiled Archduke of Upper Silesia here in the 1840’s, hence the name.
We have an unrivalled view of the seafront — the rusted birdcage remains of the West Pier and the old promenade shelter with cracked glass windows where the homeless gather at dusk. To the left, beyond the promenade, is a huge building site, a sprawling series of deep trenches and vicious netting, where the foundations for some kind of viewing platform are being laid.
