In plain daylight, as I was sitting on the hotel terrace with my beloved, I saw a pack of wolves trotting up Borgo. Cautious, they were very quiet. It appeared this was their first visit. “Ha,” it flashed through my mind, “Motovun is not empty yet.” When the vision dissolved, and it dissolved pretty quickly, I tried to remember how the houses along the street looked. Were they covered with vegetation already? Were the windows broken and branches of trees sticking out of them? I could not be sure, but the cobblestones and the houses I briefly saw seemed to be in good shape. With the exception of the wolves, there was nothing strange about the street harboring my house. It seemed that there were a few people in the hilltwon still.