Marijana Veljović

Neda relocates from Croatia to New York City seeking financial and emotional stability. While navigating her new life in the metropolis, she maintains a complicated, distant relationship with her father, Jadranko, back home through late-night online chats. During these nocturnal browsing sessions, Neda stumbles upon a forgotten digital archive belonging to a 1990s cyberfeminist collective known as the Electronic Witches. The group—originally formed by activists during the Yugoslav Wars to teach women and queer individuals how to use early electronic bulletin boards (BBS networks) to bypass state censorship—quickly becomes an obsession for her. As Neda digs deeper into the virtual archive, her digital investigation spills into the physical world. Her quest to uncover the legacy of these wartime digital pioneers transforms into a personal journey of self-discovery, exploring themes of isolation, digital intimacy, and queer resilience without falling into tragic tropes.

What do stories about a girl grieving over the death of her grandmother, two women who used to own the same apartment, a chronically ill mother, a group of teenagers, a man and a woman who reunite after a long time and a tram all have in common? They're all parts of the latest installment in the Zagreb Stories franchise of anthologies that, once again, shows us that Croatia's capitol is only quiet on the surface.

A poetic personal journey through the director's memories of the past and present, presented through unconventional combinations of images and sounds and the haunting presence of silence that threatens to whisk them away into the oblivion.

Neda relocates from Croatia to New York City seeking financial and emotional stability. While navigating her new life in the metropolis, she maintains a complicated, distant relationship with her father, Jadranko, back home through late-night online chats. During these nocturnal browsing sessions, Neda stumbles upon a forgotten digital archive belonging to a 1990s cyberfeminist collective known as the Electronic Witches. The group—originally formed by activists during the Yugoslav Wars to teach women and queer individuals how to use early electronic bulletin boards (BBS networks) to bypass state censorship—quickly becomes an obsession for her. As Neda digs deeper into the virtual archive, her digital investigation spills into the physical world. Her quest to uncover the legacy of these wartime digital pioneers transforms into a personal journey of self-discovery, exploring themes of isolation, digital intimacy, and queer resilience without falling into tragic tropes.

What do stories about a girl grieving over the death of her grandmother, two women who used to own the same apartment, a chronically ill mother, a group of teenagers, a man and a woman who reunite after a long time and a tram all have in common? They're all parts of the latest installment in the Zagreb Stories franchise of anthologies that, once again, shows us that Croatia's capitol is only quiet on the surface.

A poetic personal journey through the director's memories of the past and present, presented through unconventional combinations of images and sounds and the haunting presence of silence that threatens to whisk them away into the oblivion.