Rain, rain, rain. Days, weeks, months. But just when you get utterly fed up, just when you are ready to throw in the towel, the clouds part for a few seconds and the sun lights up the Brkač hill or the hills around Grožnjan. The sight is staggering. Sparkling wet. “Okay, okay,” you grumble and look away. And then you crack a pathetic little smile that only disfigures your haggard, pale face. For those few seconds, you look as though you are not only fed up, but also angry. Furious. Nay, demented with rage.