As my bus hurtles toward Motovun, I miss my beloved’s eyes, nose, elbows, and shoulders. I miss her belly, tits, and bum. How about Zagreb, though? Fuck Zagreb.

Addendum I (August 24, 2017)

As I enjoy telling all and sundry whenever an opportunity arises, Zagreb would be as good as dead without my beloved. Were she to move away, for instance, the city of my birth would not even cross my mind ever again. And this haiku sums up my feelings in no more than twenty-eight words. Actually, the last two words and the title sum it up even better. Fuck Zagreb, indeed. Which is why my book about the Croatian capital is dedicated to my beloved. After all, the idea of putting it together came to me on yet another bus trip to Motovun a year before this haiku was penned (“Zagreb Postcards,” December 10, 2015). As the dedication spells out in no uncertain terms, she ushered me back to the city of my birth when I least suspected. Love!

Addendum II (July 19, 2020)

So many years later, my bus appears to be history, too. The line connecting Umag and Zagreb via Livade is dead since the beginning of the coronavirus pandemic several months ago. And it is anyone’s guess when and whether it will be reinstated. But I still miss my beloved’s eyes, nose, elbows, and shoulders. I also miss her belly, tits, and bum. As for Zagreb, I do not miss it at all. Once again, fuck Zagreb. Without my beloved, it would be history for ever and ever. Out of the twenty-two books to my name, the one about the city of my birth would dwindle away pretty quickly (“Books to My Name,” April 17, 2020). Returning to love, it is the greatest mystery of this world of ours. Luckily, there is little chance it will be explained in the years to come, if ever. Which only adds to my zest for my beloved. Blessed love!