I love Zagreb. Hardly a day passes without a burst of feeling for the city of my birth. I am living incognito at last. Wherever I find myself, I am relieved by the knowledge that the remaining traces of familiarity are limited to a handful of helpers−waiters, shop attendants, petty officials. An occasional acquaintance only spoils the show. The friends are so few and far between that I rarely come across them. They are fading into insignificance, anyway.

Whence the yen for living incognito, though? Am I tired of life? Am I growing too old to care? Or am I only losing the last traces of interest for the passing show? That is, am I on my way to better things? Well, that is the hope. The hope of enlightenment, to put it bluntly. And yoga is with me all the time, indeed. Regular yoga practice crosses my mind not only every day, but also many times each day. It is turning into a burning passion, no less.

To my amazement, I find Zagreb conducive to my liberation. The passing show is always there to remind me of what it actually is. The emptiness of it all is in front of my eyes every single day. It provides the proof I seem to be after. And it offers me so many opportunities to observe everything without being observed in turn. My regular yoga practice is thus becoming a part of my life in the busiest places Zagreb can provide. And these are precisely the places where living incognito is quite palpable. Whence the powerful bursts of feeling, no doubt.