Dunja came to photograph her parents' new holiday apartments and found neighbors standing before a barrier. Her mother said people loved causing problems whenever someone invested in anything. Her father displayed the new remote control as proof the property was finally organized. Beyond the barrier ran the path along which Dunja had carried a towel to the river as a girl. Now a sign promised guests peace without passersby, as though neighbors were noise that could be switched off with a button.
Among those gathered stood Mr. Jovo, who had maintained the path while her parents worked abroad. He was not asking to enter the apartments' courtyard. He wanted access that reached the bank without a detour across a busy road. Her father replied that people left rubbish anyway. Jovo raised the old bucket he carried to collect litter but said nothing. Dunja found his silence more uncomfortable than the whole argument.
The opening was scheduled for noon. Relatives arrived, along with a local musician and two guests who thought the gathering outside the barrier was part of their welcome. Dunja took no pictures. She told her parents she would not create a promotional story about a place whose peace began by making other people's daily route harder. Her mother said she was turning her back on them before everyone. Dunja replied that everyone was precisely who stood outside the gate, and they could not forever portray the world only through photographs of an empty riverbank.
The dispute was not resolved in one day. Her parents temporarily opened the barrier, then discussed a clear separation of the path from the private courtyard with neighbors and the relevant office. They moved part of the fence, lost several planned parking spaces, and installed a simple passage. Dunja did not determine the land's legal status, but refused to beautify the conflict while it continued. For several weeks she spoke with her father only about practical matters and sent her mother pictures of her own life no longer containing their investment.
When she returned, Jovo carried the same bucket down the unobstructed path. Her father mowed grass on the other side of the new fence. They were not friends as before, but they greeted each other. Dunja sat by the river and took one photograph showing people in the distance. She sent it to her parents. Her father asked whether he could put it on the apartment website. She said yes, provided he did not erase the passersby. This time he replied simply that he would not.