Another funeral in Motovun. A woman I quite liked, too, but I decided to skip the crowd. Too many funerals lately. I hear about another death almost every time I return to the hilltown as of late. It is getting emptier and emptier, I cannot but feel. Most of these people I felt close to, as well. Whenever I am told about the sad news, I just shake my head in disbelief. “Shit,” I am ready to blurt out in a burst of anger, but I keep my teeth clenched. In a few short years, there will be hardly anyone left for me to return to. Thus I find myself gabbing with all the older people I meet as though I am grabbing my last chance to say a proper goodbye. The word itself I avoid like the plague, though. Goodbye is for the young and healthy.