My knapsack on my back, I stride down Borgo. Not far from my house I bump into Josipa or Pina Valenta in front of her house. “Ha,” she smiles at me, “you are back!” “I’ve been here all the while,” I smile back in surprise. “Oh,” she says, “I thought you were away, because the flowers in front of your house are completely dry.” She adds that she thought of watering them herself. “Funny,” I frown, “they told me these flowers needed no watering…” “Of course,” she chuckles, “but only if they are planted into the ground!” “Wait a minute,” I say and run back to my house. Having watered the dying flowers in their pots, I return to my neighbor. In her mid-eighties, she is happy to know the flowers have been saved. “Green as I am,” I smile, “I am a very green green!” She weaves her hand and laughs as I stride down Borgo, my knapsack still on my back.