The flat roof of a ramshackle two-storey building across the alley from my beloved’s apartment is a wonder to behold. It is overgrown with plants short and tall. A few of them are taller than I am. The trunks of some of them are as thick as my arm. Year by year, they have laid down their own soil. It is getting thicker all the time. As the second floor of the building has not been used for a few decades, the plants are left to themselves. And to pigeons, who find plenty of food in the thicket. Soon enough, the roof will collapse. The plants will have so much more soil to grow, and it will take them at most a decade to reach above the ruins once again. By then, the building will be completely abandoned. When the floor collapses under their weight, the plants will take a little longer to reach their present height, but the building will be theirs at last. The ground will give them plenty of water, and the walls of the ruins will soon follow the roof and the floor. Surrounded by thick bushes, ample trees will push toward the light. By then, there will be rabbits and foxes around them. The rubble will provide many a nook and cranny for their offspring. Squirrels will be hopping from branch to branch. Every now and then, the howling of wolves will be heard from the distance. In less than a century, there will be thick woods across the alley from my beloved’s apartment. It will stretch as far as the eye can reach. And all this right in the center of the Croatian capital.