On my way to Zagreb, I find myself wondering about my destination. What is it for me? Many things cross my mind, but I shake them off without much thought. The fact that Zagreb is the capital of Croatia is obvious enough, but it does not mean anything to me. Even though it is the city of my birth, the very notion strikes me as rather abstract. I could have been born anywhere else, as well. The checkered history of the city also leaves me cold. The sacking by Mongol in 1241 is perhaps the only exception. Indeed, what is Zagreb for me? The first thing that comes to my mind are my beloved’s toes. Her calves, knees, and buttocks come next. And they are followed by her nose and her eyes. The smell of her crotch. The sound of her breath. The tightness of her embrace. The warmth of my beloved’s smooth skin wraps it up quite well. Indeed, that is what Zagreb is for me. Zagreb in a nutshell, as it were. As I am getting closer and closer to it, it is becoming ever more real for me. Yes, I can see it, feel it, smell it, and hear it ever better, as well. My Zagreb.