Surrounded by electric heaters in an outdoor café in central Zagreb, I am staring at passers by. My mind is blank. Unexpectedly, a couple of words surface out of nowhere: pax vobiscum. At first I am surprised. Whence the Latin phrase? Why does it come to me at this particular time? And then I am alarmed when I suddenly remember my enemies in Motovun. Whoever the plural form of “you” may stand for, no peace is on offer on my part. None whatsoever. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. My mind is set to pursue my enemies to the grave and beyond. With unrelenting gusto, as well. But I calm down eventually. God only knows what my mind is trying to tell me, if anything. Perhaps I have stumbled upon the phrase in my surroundings without noticing it. It just popped up at an odd moment without rhyme or reason. Nothing to it, in other words. As I start to relax again, I repeat the phrase under my breath a few times. I love it, of course. What the heck, Latin would be my language of choice if the choice were available. Pax vobiscum, I nod to my Roman ancestors with a wry smile. And my mind goes blank again.