I moved to Motovun on this day six years ago. And I celebrated my arrival every single year ever since. Until this year, that is. About a week ago, when I planned to invite all my friends to the party, for which I have built a massive electronic-mail list, the enthusiasm required was simply missing. Actually, all I felt was only dread. Parties should be for real friends rather than all and sundry, many of whom are far from friends by now. From now on, parties should be carefully planned. And even more carefully prepared. They should be smaller. Much smaller, in fact. But they should gather around me only those who are likely to stay true in the years to come, when friends will be very much needed. As for the celebration of my arrival in this befuddled little hilltown, they have outgrown their purpose. And my naïve enthusiasm of yesteryear.

Addendum I (November 12, 2015)

I cracked a smile when I read this piece in one of my random searches through my writings. “From now on,” I read aloud in mock seriousness, “parties should be carefully planned.” The reading was punctured by a chuckle. To wit, my last party celebrating my arrival in Motovun took place in 2008, the year when the then mayor of the hilltown took me to court for the first time. And he took me to court twice more in 2009. Ever since, celebrating my arrival has become meaningless. Nay, unimaginable. Thanks to Slobodan Vugrinec, my arrival deserves only lamenting behind closed doors and in the dark. Like a cockroach.

Addendum II (May 11, 2017)

Having come across this piece entirely by chance one more time, I cannot but shake my head in surprise bordering on dismay. The first addendum says it all, but yet another one is still in order. Celebrating my arrival in Motovun has become unimaginable, to be sure. Even more, all my parties celebrating my arrival the first five years are nigh unimaginable so many years later. Reading about them on my uncharted journeys through my writings regularly entices not only surprise, but also disbelief. Really? Is this a joke of some kind? Thanks to Slobodan Vugrinec and Klaudio Ivašić, as well as their families, I am lamenting my arrival nearly every day of the year, and not only on the accursed date. Following my liberation early last year, though, abandoning thought at will and for as long as I wish is the only way around my arrival in Motovun and its many horrors. As for cockroaches, would that they indeed ruled the roost in the hilltown!