In June 2008, I didn't know how to ask my grandma to fake death.

Even though she shouldered eighty years, her back was remarkably straight. She had the liveliest eyes, and a toothless smile, both smart and shy. She avoided any commotion and conflict. She had broken her left hip some twenty years earlier and now that she had been living in Sweden since the outbreak of the Balkan war, she still refused to have it fixed, properly this time. She would sit ten inches from the TV-set, with her good ...