There is no joy in my return to Motovun today. In fact, I feel like a pig going to slaughter. “The assholes have taken Motovun away from me,” it pulsates through my mind. But I keep reminding myself that no-one can ever take anything away from me. Everything is up to me. Everything is in my own hands. “The assholes have soiled my beliefs,” it pulsates through my mind in the wake of this wise admonishment. And I keep reminding myself that no-one can ever soil my beliefs. They are firmly in my own hands. “The assholes…,” it pulsates through my mind still.