As I am having my morning coffee at Marko’s, Antonio Flego walks past with two large watering cans in his hands. He is watering the flowers in planters owned by the municipality. “Morning, cousin!” I salute him. Judging by his family name, we must be cousins on my mother’s side, no matter how distant. “Morning,” he mumbles. “Working hard?” I chuckle. “People must work hard so as not to think too much,” he mumbles again. “Exactly,” I yell after him, “exactly!” My cousin’s wisdom fills me with joy. Coming from tiny Brkač within sight of Motovun, he is wiser than many a learned student of the human mind.