I did not cry the first time I heard this popular gipsy singer from Serbia, known as Luis. I was only blue. That was twenty years ago, when my first marriage was about to end. I was on my father’s boat on the Adriatic coast together with my first son. One song touched me more than others. “Don’t scold me, don’t curse me, mother,” the singer pleads in the wake of a calamitous love affair. A few days ago, in Istria, I heard a different rendering of the same song at the time when my second marriage is about to end. And at the time when the second anniversary of my mother’s death is but a few days away. I did not cry twenty years ago. I was only blue.