On our way home from the main green market in Zagreb, we pass by an old man heading for the market. In his eighties, he is unusually tall. Slightly stooped, he is very thin. He is dragging his feet, but he is moving at a clip. I stop to see him better. Time stops. Tears come to my eyes. I shake my head and rejoin my beloved, who is waiting for me a few steps ahead. Although trifling and fleeting, this was still a brush with enlightenment. I do not say a word about the old man, and we keep walking toward my beloved’s apartment. My mind hums along smoothly.