I am leaving Zagreb soon, and so I am completing all sorts of chores at a clip. One of them was printing out three copies of my new book for the Strasbourg judges. It took me about a quarter of an hour to have them printed and bound in one of the best copying services in the Croatian capital. Nothing of this sort is available in Motovun, it goes without saying. Embellished with a photograph of the hilltown bathing in sunshine, the three copies now rest in front of me. I pick one of them up every now and then, open it at random, and read a few lines. And I am over the moon with my own writing. “Lucky judges,” I grin to myself after a while, “they will have loads of fun at long last!” Indeed, I cannot but see them grinning in turn at my relentless tirade against corruption and organized crime in Croatia. The government, the political parties, and the court system behind the whole lot are in my focus much of the time. By comparison, the former mayor of Motovun is the size of, well, a common household bug.