My beloved and I plan to go to Motovun in about a week. Just in time for me to pay all my bills that are piling up in my post office box, that is. She will return to Zagreb several days later, but I will stay for some three weeks. There are all sorts of things to do with the house, which is gradually falling into disrepair. In addition, my No. 1 son plans to visit me at the end of this month or the beginning of the next. My beloved will be traveling a lot in the meanwhile, and it is unlikely that we will be able to get together again before the middle of the next month. I shudder. Our separations are stressful even when short, but this one will be on the long side, as well. The hilltown itself attracts me not a bit, though. In fact, it positively repels me. As my son’s visit is still up in the air, the only appealing prospect back “home” is that I will have all the time in the world for writing. Much writing, indeed. Although I know that I am grasping at straws, I look forward to the peace and quiet. And to a stunning new record at the end of this year.