This afternoon we enjoyed the celebration of something or other at our favorite restaurant in Zagreb. Judging by the season, my beloved thought it was university graduation. Indeed, there was a woman in her mid-twenties right in the middle of a long table. She was dressed like a whore. Well, not even a whore would ever be caught dressed quite like that. On her high heels, she could barely walk. Her father and mother were next to her. Sundry relatives were close by. Stocky and fat, all of them looked like primordial peasants. Unadulterated Brueghel, that is. Which started me thinking about peasants once again. I have nothing against them, as I like to point out over and over again, as long as they stick to the land. This is where they belong. Once they reach the city, they are a nuisance to behold. As is my habit, I forget about their entertainment value. After all, this afternoon we enjoyed the celebration of something or other in front of our very eyes. And that nearly naked young woman wobbling on her fat feet was the prize. Bring in more peasants, please!