As I am flipping through all sorts of ever more annoying books in a Christmas-happy Zagreb bookstore, I chance upon a page with some bozo’s precious wisdom printed in large and bold letters, which sticks to me like a lousy dream. When it comes to death, he or she blurts out without a trace of suspicion, fiction is superior to non-fiction, for you cannot but anticipate a good deal. As though death is not life’s shadow. As though one dies but once.