As I was having my morning coffee at Marko’s, I noticed a large moth on the wall just above the place where I usually sit. Unusually, it was nearly white with black patterns. It had two rows of three black dots on its hairy body and an intricate black-and-white lace on its wings. The pattern of dots immediately reminded me of Lascaux, where it appears twice. I painted it nearly ten years ago (“Two Rows of Three Black Dots,” December 22, 2004). I marveled at the pattern from close up, but the moth was not perturbed. It considered itself invisible against the white wall of the Communal Palace, I guess. Against my better judgment, I felt the moth was a portent of some kind. The shaman in me perked up all of a sudden. Since the pattern looks like a six on a dice, I even thought it meant that I was about to score big sometime soon. It took me a little while to collect my senses and laugh at myself. The moth is but a moth. It got to Motovun purely by chance. At best, I can call it the Lascaux moth to entertain myself. Superstition is for the birds.