I am sitting in an outdoor café in central Zagreb when a Gypsy woman I know for years walks by. A fortune-teller, she walks around the pedestrian area all the while, but we have not seen each other for several months. “You look younger and younger,” she smiles and passes her hand over her face. This indicates smoothness of the skin. I chuckle and wave at her. As she is walking away, I yell after her: “I have a small secret!” “I know,” she turns toward me briefly and waves at me as she keeps walking, “I know!” And she does know, indeed. She has seen me with my beloved a few times already. It does not take a fortune-teller to figure out the small secret of mine.