A bunch of us were sitting in one of the watering holes in Motovun when the subject of music came up in connection with something or other that was playing at the time. A few people around the table were new in town, and thus they had no idea what to make of my unbending views. “When it comes to music,” laughed Ilona Brečević-Nurkollari at some point, “never discuss it with Ranko!” We all laughed and someone mercifully changed the subject. When I returned home a short while later, I put on a compact disk with African music. Rwanda. 1952. As I write, it is playing full blast. Ilona was surely right.