When you spot Mauro Sirotić anywhere around Motovun, chances are that he is sporting a big camera on his chest. He takes pictures left and right as unobtrusively as he can. Now and then he brings me some of his catch. My beloved appears to be one of his favorite subjects, too. A few days ago he came to my door with two of her pictures. Both are from last year. In one of them she is shown from behind as she is talking with one of our friends. Neither of them is in the focus. She is in the focus of the other picture, though, but she is in the middle of a huge crowd. The picture was taken just before one of the movies on the upper square at the last film festival. Everyone is sitting in long, crooked rows. I am horsing around next to her with a larger-than-life grin on my face, and two of our friends are laughing in the row behind us. My beloved is smiling faintly for the camera. But how lovely she is! How sweet! How dear! For days now I cannot stop looking at the picture, which has been sitting right in the middle of my dining table. More often than not I smile at my beloved. I coo to her. I tell her how much I love her. Or how much I long for her. And I keep wondering about the effect Mauro’s picture has had on me this time around. God be thanked that she is on her way to Motovun even as I write.