Many years ago, I went on a long walk with a friend through the fields and forests surrounding a small city in southern Ontario. It was early fall, probably September. We walked for hours.
Eventually we came to a highway, which we crossed into an empty yellow field full of transmission towers. There was a road in this field. We walked down the road for a while until we came to a path on our righthand side, which lead into an overgrown park. The path was lined with tall trees in a way that probably used to be impressive, but the trees were in need of pruning and the path was grown over with grass.
At the end of the path there was a very tall plinth, and on top of the plinth were the two feet of a statue. The rest of the statue was gone, as if someone had just cut it off from the feet and carried it away. On the plinth there was some writing in Ukranian and a smaller text in English, and by reading the English text we were able to discern that these feet once belonged to a statue of the Ukranian poet Taras Shevchenko.
I can't really explain why, but visiting Bogomil's Memorial gives me the exact same feeling I had at the feet of that statue — finding oneself in a forgotten place which no one expected you to visit. With Bogomil's Memorial, this odd feeling is experienced twofold. Through the site you encounter both the memorials that were the Stećci, and you also encounter the website-as-memorial, because it too is an abandoned monument created for another time.