On a clear and sunny morning, and especially after the bora has scrubbed the air, the shadow of the Motovun hill reaches deep into the Mirna valley. Stretching west, it almost touches Monte Dulcan at the bottom of the Brkač hill. Pointing toward the blue sea in the distance, the sharp shadow looks like that of an ancient pyramid with a flat top and a tall tower. Combined with the green fields and woods of the valley, which curve softly, the shadow of the past is mesmerizing. Untold centuries and millennia merge as if by magic in that magnificent projection. It appears timeless and indelible. It is thus ever-so-slightly disappointing to look through the window a short while later, for the shadow shortens pretty fast as the sun hurtles toward its zenith in the sky. By and by, the past shrinks, as well.