After some twenty-four hours, the rain has stopped in the early afternoon. The bora is now pushing the clouds toward the sea. The sun is peeking between the thinning clouds every now and then. Looking down from Motovun toward the west, the Mirna valley below looks like paradise. And a sparingly populated one, just like one would imagine it to be. Such thoughts are pretty dangerous, though. One knows that this place is far from an ideal one, but does this say something about the Mirna valley or paradise itself? Whichever way one’s thoughts happen to go, the hilltown is an ideal place to consider them. Idle thoughts, that is. And especially when the bora clears the view and lets the mind soar free.