Zoran Radojčić has put powerful loudspeakers in front of his souvenir shop on the town wall. As it happens, the shop is just above my house on Borgo. And he is letting the music rip the last week or two. There are two problems with his music: it is very loud, and it is of abysmal taste. Cooped up in my house, where all the windows and shutters are closed on account of the growing heat, I can always hear the rhythm. And it is outright appalling: whoop-whoop-whoop… Contemporary popular music punctuated by computer-generated thumping strikes me as the pits. The best remedy for the continual torture is African drumming. Luckily, I have many a compact disk with my favorite music. I let it rip, too. My house starts shaking with drums whenever Zoran gets going. Tourists walking around the hilltown must be wondering about its inhabitants. We must be crazy one and all, but our craziness reaches toward the two extremes of the central dimension of human personality: extroversion and introversion.

To Carl Jung