I have been prolific the last three weeks. Alone in Motovun, I have been scribbling away. Day after day, up to seven pieces a day! My record tells me that I am more than a month ahead of last year in terms of the number of pieces written. And it was a record year across the board. This is great news in terms of my current experiment, which is about observing what my brain will come up with. Anything coherent is fine with me at this stage. The old brain is obliging, too, and I am often surprised by my catch. Nulla dies sine diluvio, to put it in a nutshell. But I will be returning to Zagreb in a couple of days, and my writing is sure to suffer appreciably. While there, I write mostly while my beloved is at work. Although I am delighted to return to her, whom I have not touched for so many weeks, I am somewhat apprehensive about my experiment. For my sins, I am getting kind of addicted to the daily deluge. Whence this pitiful piece, I fear.