While in Zagreb, I go to the Kolding Caffe nearly every morning. There is a big television screen there, and I make sure I cannot see it from where I am sitting, for it is almost always on some sort of fashion channel. Despicable. As I do not watch television, the movement on the screen attracts my attention every once in a while. This foolish brain of mine picks up every single move, and I end up looking at models parading amazing crap back and forth. Back and forth. But I cannot always find a table that is in the shade of the screen. All the tables I like were occupied when I entered the place this morning, and so I am watching men dressed in pink, women undressed, and fashion-show spectators fanning themselves with all and sundry. The pits. As is often the case when I am up shit creek, I turn to writing. Luckily, my laptop computer is always with me. Thus this inane record of my predicament. At least for a while, I am not looking at the screen. The foolish human brain, to be sure.