The day is gray, and it is rather cold. A steady, light wind only exacerbates the discomfort. Many people walking through one of Zagreb’s squares have hoods drawn over their heads. And then I spot a tall man whose hood looks empty. It is dark inside. From a distance, it looks like a hole. It seems the hood is standing up all by itself. As I am walking toward him, I feel increasingly ill at ease. The closer I get to him, the more anxious I get. When I draw quite near, I realize the man is black. In fact, he must hail from equatorial Africa. Which only goes to show how rare people like him are in the Croatian capital.