As I am getting closer to my beloved, I am thinking only about seeing her. And about touching and smelling her. I am not thinking about getting ever farther from Motovun. Or about getting ever closer to Zagreb. I am only getting closer and closer to my beloved. She is elsewhere, and that is all there is to it. I am crossing space and time just to see her. As well as to taste and hear her. Wherever she happened to be at any particular time, I would be getting there from wherever I happened to be at the same time. Motovun and Zagreb only happen to be the points of origin and destination at this particular time. Otherwise, they are completely irrelevant. In fact, my beloved is the destination. And I am the origin. A hurtling one, too.