My No. 1 son has turned forty today. Round decimal numbers have a special weight in the so-called west, and so I did my best to argue in my happy-birthday message that the seven-year life cycle makes much more sense than the ten-year one. I even sent him a link to a piece of mine on this topic (“The Seven-Year Life Cycle,” October 23, 2008). To my chagrin, the piece only reminded me of the legal quagmire I got into soon after I wrote it (“Welcome to Motovun!” November 13, 2008). The quagmire got going the following year, though (“Merrily into 2009!” January 2, 2009; and “A Complete and Total Cockroach,” October 27, 2009). All in all, it has been seven years already, but Strasbourg is still ahead of me. Chances are that I will be well past seventy by the time it is all over. In short, my tenth life cycle has indeed been marked by yoga, as I prophesied seven years ago, but the Croatian courts have also left an indelible mark on it. The cockroach yoga, in short. Returning to my message to my No. 1 son, it is the eleventh life cycle I am looking forward to at this stage. By then, all my ties with the human race will be reduced to the absolute minimum.

Addendum (October 20, 2015)

As my seventieth birthday is approaching, my piece about life cycles of seven years comes to my mind ever more often (“The Seven-Year Life Cycle,” October 23, 2008). Written almost exactly seven years ago, it was blissfully innocent of the legal quagmire right ahead of me at the time. Thus I revisit it with mixed feelings, for the intervening years have been rather hard on me. And I was saved only by the cockroach yoga, as it were. But this particular piece attracts me because of the explicit recognition of the eleventh life cycle in my life. The decision of the European Court of Human Rights will mark its beginning. Assuming that it is in my favor, I will do my best to publish my book about political repression in Croatia put together with the great court’s judges in mind. Entitled Dying to Go to Strasbourg, it needs only a few words by way of a happy end. As well as a willing and able publisher. And my retirement will start in earnest. From then on, I will do my best to become invisible, inaudible, and untouchable. What amazes me about my solemn promise is the joy that fills my heart whenever I remember it. So many months in advance, the joy is nigh palpable.