There was much fun at Miško’s this evening. There were many of us around the table. As usual, we came from all over the place. When things calmed down a bit, only two of us remained at the table. Coming from Britain, he owns a house close to Motovun. We know each other for years. Unexpectedly, this evening we stumbled upon a subject we have never broached before: the end of it all. As it turned out, he and his wife had bought their house in the boondocks in expectation of dire times ahead. They are into gardening. They are into ways of preserving their vegetables and fruits. And they are into water collection and preservation. We agreed about everything from the very beginning, and we also agreed that the only remaining question was that of timing. When will it start in earnest? By the time we called it a night, we both felt almost embarrassed by our spotless agreement. And it was no less than spotless, indeed. For the end of it all is seldom discussed in polite society, no matter how friendly. Or how tipsy.

Addendum (October 28, 2016)

When I came across this piece on one of my uncharted journeys through my writings, I read it twice. I wanted to make sure that my first guess of the British couple in question was correct. And it was. Given that the end of it all is seldom discussed in polite society, I also wanted to make sure that the couple’s identity was not jeopardized. And it was not. Phew! But chances are that there are quite a few such couples across Istria. Coming from Europe or America, none of them would wish to be exposed. The end of it all is still a carefully guarded secret. To this day, the only ostensible attraction of the peninsula is its beauty. In this context, the beauty of Motovun and its surroundings is incontestable. Amen.