This morning my beloved and I bumped into someone from Motovun right in the center of Zagreb. Although I often meet with several youngsters from the hilltown who now spend most of their time in the Croatian capital, this was different. Very different. It was like meeting someone from a previous life. Or a parallel life. Whence the palpable discomfort, I guess. For a moment, I felt something was wrong about the encounter. It struck me as almost illicit. And perhaps even dangerous. I am in Zagreb mostly because this is where my beloved lives, but I am here also because I am running away from Motovun. As well as hiding from it to the best of my ability. The old love affair is gone for good, and every reminder of it is nearly painful. Until I return to the hilltown on my own terms and choose my company as I see fit. Yes, a parallel life it is. Here and there sharply divided. Split asunder. But I had better get used to bumping into someone or other from Motovun every once in a while even when I am far away from it. Tiny though it is, it is big enough and close enough for many an unpleasant surprise.