Almost every day, but especially when it is hot, I spend my early afternoons in the shade of the hotel terrace. Protected by buildings from all sides, there is no better place in Motovun when it is scorching hot. As I sit at my table, my eyes roam among the chestnut trees. Slivers of sunshine that penetrate through the canopy and the rustle of leaves round off the world in front of my eyes. And then I see a cat strutting by. It is the very same cat I see every day as it begs for scraps among the tables. I, too, feed it on occasion. This time it is different, though. The cat, the tree, the rustle, and I merge without warning. We become one. The world falls silent. Dead still. When the moment passes, and I cannot tell how long it has lasted, I find myself in tears. Even now, as I am trying to capture this divine experience in words, tears keep clouding my sight.

Addendum (May 14, 2007)

Early this afternoon I went to the hotel terrace, as usual. But everything was a bit different this time. I made sure my notebook was with me. And the best among my many pens, too. As soon as I sat down at the very same table, I looked around for the cat, my old friend. It was there, as well. Everything was just right. Everything was ready for another miracle. But it failed to come through, it goes without saying, even though I sat at the terrace much longer than usual. Maybe tomorrow, though.