There are cities remembered for their speed.
And some stay with you because they teach you how to slow down.
Sombor belongs to the second kind.
At first glance, flatlands, tree-lined streets, and a quiet that doesn’t demand attention.
Look closer — and you’ll find a space where thoughts don’t spread quickly, but they go deeper.
Maybe that’s exactly why places like this give birth to a different kind of literature.
Not the kind that shouts to be noticed — but the kind that endures.
Not the kind that tries to impress — but the kind that seeks to understand.
In that silence, somewhere between two steps and a distant gaze, a question appears — one that doesn’t ask for a quick answer:
Is the plain empty —
Or has it simply learned to speak more quietly?
The answer doesn’t come right away.
But if you stay long enough, you’ll begin to notice it — in stories, in people, in sentences that linger longer than expected.
This article is part of a series about a town that remembers.
If you want to understand why small towns often hold the biggest ideas, this is where the story begins.
Veljko stands in front of the Veljko Petrović Gymnasium.
He looks straight ahead — but it feels as if he’s seeing far beyond: past the tree-lined streets, beyond the town, beyond time itself.
A soft wind moves through the leaves.
And it’s almost as if something responds — not loudly, but patiently.
The plain is never empty.
It simply asks not to be rushed.
Somewhere between that question and that quiet answer, understanding begins — not just of a writer, but of the place that shaped him.
And maybe, in that same moment, we begin to understand ourselves too — When we finally stop chasing,
and allow stillness to catch up with us.
Who Was Veljko Petrović
Veljko Petrović was the kind of writer who doesn’t stop you abruptly —
He slows you down, almost without you noticing.
He wrote about Bačka, about the people of the plain, about the things you don’t see right away — but that quietly shape everything.
He was born on November 5, 1884, in what was once Church Street in Sombor, into a life that offered little comfort early on: he lost his mother at just two months old, and his father soon became a monk. Raised by relatives, he learned early what it means to rely on one’s inner world.
Maybe that’s why his stories never seek external spectacle.
His law studies in Budapest didn’t pull him away from literature — they refined him.
They taught him to observe precisely.
To document the world without rushing it.
He wrote for Srbobran and Croatia, edited Sloboda in Sremska Mitrovica, and was part of the editorial board of Srpske riječi in Sarajevo.
He lived through wars, camps, and political upheavals.
But his subject was never the noise of history — it was the human being within it.
Today, his presence in Sombor isn’t loud or monumental.
But it’s there, if you know how to look:
- the gymnasium that carries his name
- tree-lined streets that still feel like they are holding onto thoughts
- His statue with a dove in front of the Karlo Bijelicki Library
- a quiet bust in the children’s department courtyard
He didn’t belong to the loud writers of his time.
He was part of a great circle — collaborating with Jovan Skerlić, Miloš Crnjanski, and Jovan Dučić — but he didn’t build his identity through conflict.
His strength was different:
to say a lot — without raising his voice.
He was an editor, a public intellectual, vice president of the PEN Club — a man who understood both literature and people.
His stories may not seem “big” at first glance.
But they stay.
And that’s the difference.
Veljko Petrović passed away on July 27, 1967, in Belgrade.
He was buried in the Alley of the Greats.
But if you walk through Sombor carefully, you’ll realize:
He never really left.
He just changed the way we find him.
The World of the Salaš
Some places embrace you with noise.
And some places leave you alone — but not lonely.
The salaš belongs to the second kind.
At first glance, a house in the middle of the plain.
Far from the city. Far from the crowd.
But in reality, it’s where something begins that we usually try to avoid.
In Petrović’s stories, the salaš is not a backdrop.
It’s a mirror.
Where there are no distractions, thoughts begin.
Where there is no audience, only the human being remains.
And whatever they cannot escape from.
In his short story Salašar, the plain is not decoration.
It participates.
Silence doesn’t set you free — it asks something of you.
Because freedom on a salaš is not romantic.
It’s a confrontation.
“In the city, a man escapes from others.
On the salaš — there is no one to escape from.”
And maybe that’s why places like this feel slightly unsettling.
Not because they are far away —
But because they bring you too close to yourself.
Following the Path of the Salaš
Veljko wouldn’t choose salaši based on recommendations.
He wouldn’t look at ratings.
He would recognize them by something that can’t be written down.
By the way the wind moves.
By a silence that doesn’t need explaining.
He would leave Sombor without a plan.
Because the plain doesn’t ask for direction — it asks for presence.
His first stop might be Dida Hornjakov Salaš.
Not because it’s the most famous —
But because time there doesn’t try to be anything else.
Then he would continue to Salaš Stanišić.
But he wouldn’t look at what’s made for guests.
He would notice the small things:
how someone cuts bread,
how conversations don’t end — they soften.
Then perhaps a stop at Naš Salaš.
A name that promises nothing —
And that’s exactly why it never disappoints.
And somewhere further — Salaš Sedam Dudova.
A place that sounds like a story even before it’s told.
And then — he would go where there is no name.
Because the true plain is never in what is marked.
It lives in what you discover on your own.
And on the way back, he would carry only one thought:
people search for extraordinary places —
only to realize that the truly extraordinary ones
were ordinary all along.
Why We Named Our Mascot Veljko
Our little Veljko didn’t get his name by accident.
He brings together two kinds of silence.
One from the plain.
The other from the galaxy.
On one side — Veljko Petrović.
On the other hand, Yoda, and the philosophy of Star Wars: “This is the Way.”
At first glance, they seem impossible to connect.
But the logic is the same:
Real wisdom doesn’t arrive loudly.
Veljko doesn’t explain.
He shows.
Yoda doesn’t lecture.
He asks.
Somewhere between them, our Veljko emerges.
A character who doesn’t try to be clever —
but chooses to stay curious.
Because true wisdom doesn’t come as an answer.
It comes as a question.
An Imagined Conversation: Veljko & Veljko
Night inside the Serbian Reading Room, Laza Kostić is never completely silent.
Books breathe differently when no one is around.
Paper remembers more than it reveals.
That evening, something shifted between the shelves.
Not suddenly.
More like a thought just beginning to form.
The older Veljko Petrović stood beside a table.
Hands behind his back.
Gaze calmly.
As if he had always been there.
The little Veljko sat on a stack of books, his feet not quite touching the ground.
He looked at him without fear.
Only curiosity.
“Are you the one who writes?”
The little one asked.
“Sometimes,” the older replied.
“And you — are you the one who asks?”
The little one shrugged.
“If I don’t ask — how will I know?”
The silence didn’t break.
It deepened.
Between them lay a book that didn’t belong there.
Its cover was darker than the others.
No title.
“Why have people stopped searching?”
The little Veljko asked.
“They haven’t,” said the older one.
“They’ve just started searching where it’s easier.”
The little one tilted his head.
“And where is it harder?”
The older Veljko looked at him.
“Where no answers exist in advance.”
The little Veljko slid down from the books and approached the table.
He opened the unknown book.
The pages weren’t written like the others.
But they weren’t empty either.
They were… unfinished.
As if waiting.
“Who wrote this?”
He asked.
The older one didn’t answer right away.
“Those who didn’t wait to be taught.”
The little one blinked.
“Teachers without teachers… are they?”
“Autodidacts.”
The word lingered in the air —
as if it had always belonged there.
The little Veljko traced a finger across the page.
And something strange happened.
Letters began to appear.
Not all at once.
Slowly.
As if responding to his presence.
“Why now?” he whispered.
The older Veljko smiled, just slightly.
“Maybe because you asked the right question.”
On the page, words appeared:
“Don’t look for a teacher.
Become the one who asks.”
The little Veljko looked up.
“A book of questions… is this?”
“No,” said the older one.
“This is a trace.”
“Of what?”
“Of a society that never wanted to be found.”
A breeze moved through the reading room.
Pages turned on their own.
A new sentence appeared:
“Knowledge doesn’t belong to those who keep it.
It belongs to those who seek it.”
The little Veljko whispered:
“A secret society… it exists?”
The older one looked at him — as if measuring how much he was ready to hear.
“The Secret Society of Autodidacts.”
Silence.
But now — a different kind.
Fuller.
“Why secret?”
The little one asked.
“Because knowledge given without a question… doesn’t last.”
“And they… what do they do?”
“They don’t gather often.
They don’t leave traces everyone can see.”
He paused.
“But sometimes… they leave something behind.”
The little Veljko looked at the book.
“Like this?”
“Like this.”
“Why here?”
Shelves. Books. Shadows.
Sombor rested quietly beyond the walls.
The older Veljko answered almost inaudibly:
“Because they knew someone who knows how to ask… would come.”
The little Veljko closed the book.
Not abruptly.
Carefully.
As if he understood, he had only just begun reading it.
“And the next question… what is it?”
The older Veljko looked at him.
This time — like a teacher.
But without an answer.
The little Veljko smiled.
Softly.
“No one will give it to me… I’ll have to find it myself.”
Somewhere in the reading room, the book lost its title again.
But those who know how to look —
will see it isn’t empty.
And maybe then, they’ll remember how to connect:
👉 knowledge and play
👉 depth and lightness
👉 wisdom and humor
Because the Secret Society of Autodidacts doesn’t look for members.
It looks for questions.
Learn with Alison
Secret Society of Autodidacts
There’s a reason this story doesn’t end here.
It continues — but not through words alone.
👉 through ideas
👉 through questions
👉 through the symbols you carry with you
That’s why it exists:
The Secret Society of Autodidacts collection.
It’s not just a design.
It’s a signal:
👉 to reject the superficial
👉 to think deeper
👉 to resist quick answers
👉 “Think Slower.”
Not as advice.
But as a choice.
👉 Explore the collection at InnerWay ART Studio
👉 Find the symbol that speaks to you
👉 Join those who don’t rush to understand
Veljko Petrović’s Literary Map
If you tried to find Veljko, you wouldn’t locate him at a single address.
You’d find him in motion.
In the way a town breathes slower than you’re used to.
In how your steps grow quieter while your thoughts grow louder.
Sombor isn’t a map you read with your eyes.
It’s a map you understand when you stop hurrying.
You’d start down a street that doesn’t seem to demand attention at first glance:
Veljko Petrović Street
Once called Church Street, it now carries his name.
Houses stand calmly, as if guarding something not meant for everyone.
At number 18, a beginning awaits.
Not a spectacle.
But a reminder: big stories often start where no one looks for long.
Veljko would likely pause here briefly.
Not for the past — but for the silence that remains.
Your path leads onward — but doesn’t explain where.
Then suddenly, you stand before
Veljko Petrović Gymnasium.
The windows look the same as they once did.
Perhaps from one of them, a young Veljko gazed out, trying to understand a world that didn’t try to explain itself.
He didn’t record the big events.
He recorded the in-between:
The glance.
The silence.
The waiting.
And he realized what most overlook:
Life isn’t what happens —
It’s what we notice as it happens.
Further along, your steps take you to where the town ceases to be streets
and begins to be space.
The Great Park
The trees here don’t cast shadows.
They create time.
The paths don’t lead anywhere.
They lead you back to yourself.
Veljko would sit.
Not to rest — but to listen.
Because a park isn’t for passing through.
It’s where thoughts catch up with steps.
Where the plain, even from afar, begins to be felt.
Somewhere between steps and reflection, doors open quieter than expected:
Serbian Reading Room Laza Kostić
Inside, books don’t just stand.
They wait.
Here, conversations were once held not to win — but to understand.
Words aligned slowly.
Without rushing.
Veljko would feel at home here.
Not because he knows everything.
But because he knows how to ask.
Then, somewhere near the end — or maybe the beginning — stands he:
Veljko Petrović Monument
Not as a conclusion.
But as a pause.
A calm figure.
A gaze far away.
As if he isn’t looking at what is —
But at what could be.
Stand beside him long enough, and you may notice something strange.
The town doesn’t grow quieter.
You grow more attentive.
And then you realize:
Sombor isn’t a place you come to see.
It’s a place where you learn how to look.
And Veljko?
He never really left.
He only changed the way we notice him.
Veljko Petrović Stories Online – Serbian literature
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Experience Instead of Reading
If you want to feel the plain — not just read about it:
- Stay on a salaš
- Weekend in Sombor
- Slow travel experience
👉 “Book a plane experience — not just a trip.”
Why His Story Matters Today
Today, everyone is rushing somewhere.
You may not see exactly where, but you feel the pressure to move faster.
As if time itself must be conquered.
Then you arrive at the plain.
And nothing happens immediately.
This is where the difference begins.
Because the plane doesn’t accelerate.
It deepens.
And that’s what Veljko Petrović did too.
His stories don’t pass by.
They endure.
His message isn’t loud.
But it is lasting:
👉 not everything slow is backward
👉 not everything quiet is empty
👉 not everything simple is easy
In a world that constantly demands more —
He brings us back to one question:
What happens when we finally stop?
Perhaps that is the most important skill today.
Not how to get there faster.
But how to see more clearly?
SoTheWay is more than a blog. It’s a guide for your everyday small victories.
✨ Explore the entire SoTheWay galaxy →FAQ – Frequently Asked Questions
Who was Veljko Petrović and why is he important?
Veljko Petrović (1884–1967) was a Serbian writer and intellectual from Sombor who captured the essence of the plains (Bačka) and the subtle rhythms of life. His stories emphasize mindfulness, slow observation, and the human experience within history, rather than grand historical events. He inspires both literary enthusiasts and travelers seeking authentic cultural experiences in Eastern Europe.
What is the Secret Society of Autodidacts?
The Secret Society of Autodidacts is a symbolic concept inspired by Veljko Petrović’s philosophy of curiosity and self-learning. It celebrates those who ask questions, explore knowledge independently, and value depth over speed. It also serves as the theme for the InnerWay ART Studio collection, including POD designs that embody slow thinking and thoughtful living.
How does the Veljko Petrović collection connect to mindfulness and slow living?
Our Veljko-inspired collection reflects the values of slowing down, thinking deeply, and observing the world. Designs, quotes, and products from the collection encourage mindful exploration, curiosity, and reflection — perfect for literary enthusiasts, travelers, and anyone embracing slow living practices.
Can I visit places related to Veljko Petrović in Sombor?
Yes! Sombor offers a literary journey for those who want to experience Veljko Petrović’s world. Key locations include:
Veljko Petrović Gymnasium
Veljko Petrović Street
Great Park of Sombor
Serbian Reading Room Laza Kostić
His monument in the city center
Visiting these sites offers a unique slow travel experience, combining literary tourism and cultural exploration.
How can I experience the “plain” as Veljko did?
To truly feel the plains (Bačka), consider:
Staying on a traditional salaš (farmstead)
Slow travel weekends in Sombor
Guided literary or mindfulness tours
This immersive approach allows you to experience the quiet, reflective pace that inspired Veljko Petrović’s writing.
Are there online resources or books by Veljko Petrović?
Yes! Many of Veljko Petrović’s works are available online or through select bookstores. InnerWay ART Studio also curates special digital and physical editions inspired by his stories, perfect for collectors, literary travelers, and fans of Eastern European literature.
How do I connect Veljko Petrović’s philosophy to the Secret Society of Autodidacts collection?
The collection embodies Veljko’s values: curiosity, reflection, and slow learning. Each design or symbol encourages the wearer to think critically, ask questions, and embrace thoughtful living — turning everyday items into reminders of mindfulness and independent learning.
What makes Sombor a unique destination for literary and cultural tourism?
Sombor stands out for its peaceful streets, historic architecture, and literary heritage. It is a slow-travel haven where visitors can experience authentic Serbian culture, visit Veljko Petrović’s landmarks, and immerse themselves in the rhythm of the plains. Perfect for travelers seeking mindful exploration and Eastern Europe off-the-beaten-path experiences.
Can I buy Veljko-inspired designs online?
Yes! InnerWay ART Studio offers a range of POD (print-on-demand) products featuring Veljko-inspired designs. These items include apparel, stationery, and accessories that celebrate curiosity, wisdom, and mindful living. Ideal for gifting or personal inspiration.
Why is Veljko Petrović still relevant today?
In today’s fast-paced world, Veljko Petrović’s focus on slowing down, noticing the subtle, and valuing depth over speed is more relevant than ever. His stories teach us that life’s richness lies in observation and reflection — lessons that resonate with modern readers, travelers, and anyone seeking mindful living.