Having been to court hearings in Pazin twice already, I do not worry much about the third hearing, which is scheduled for tomorrow morning. I am prepared for it rather well, too. But the day before is still hard on me. Willy-nilly, I keep returning to images and sounds of that ugly courtroom. The burly judge. The listless lawyers. And the stiff mayor of Motovun, my tormentor. Flashes of his pinched face and his cowed voice are especially annoying. His congenital mispronunciation of “r” is outright grating. I am thus doing my best to distract myself. Reading does not go all that well, though. Neither does writing. The courtroom is upon me all the time. To make things worse, Motovun is already closed for the season. Streets and squares are deserted. Even the street cats seem bewildered by the calm that now grips the medieval town like a vice. The day before would always be hard on me, but the desolation makes it even harder.