On Tuesday, my second day in Zagreb, I sat down on a bench in the central park. Soon a widowed woman took a seat next to me. I lost track of time, but over the next half hour or hour she told me her story. Her 40-year old son had recently lost his girlfriend and quickly thereafter his job. Within a couple weeks of losing his job he told his mother that his plumbing had broken and asked to stay with her for a little while. This happened two years ago and he’s still living with her. She needs her own space and has told him several times to leave, but he won’t. She is a little bit ashamed of the situation and has difficulty talking about it with her friends. Some things are better told to a stranger I guess.
Someone call Dostoyevsky – we already have his next storyline. What?? He’s dead?? Nevermind.