Most, if not all, mysteries have to do with a trivial fact that everything that there is can be found between your ears. There, everything is connected with everything else in flesh and blood. Neurons and synapses galore. Thence life after death. And ghosts. God, too. Or the world as one. The trivial fact is so trite and tired that it escapes notice. And it always will, as witnessed by your sudden discovery. Your sudden rediscovery, that is.

Addendum (May 28, 2003)

My childhood friend, Dragan Jovičić, died of heart-attack on the very day this was written, as I just learned by electronic mail from his wife, Mira. It was just after two o’clock in the morning. He died in his sleep. He was buried a few days later, on Orthodox Good Friday. Three days my senior, Dragan was more of a brother than a friend. We were inseparable for years. He and his family lived in the same building, on the same floor. My memories of Jovanova Street in Belgrade are inextricably bound with him. He will live as long as I do, as I just wrote back to Mira. Now there is one more ghost in my attic, but the attic is vast and warm. Welcome, Dragan!