“Climb with me to Srđ. I’m going to show you a window where my nono threw a dozen eggs when he wasn’t mad at him, so he got mad at her because she kisses him.
Then Porporela. The place with the most beautiful sunsets in the world, dare I say it.
Do you only know how many pairs of Sponza and Rector’s Palace hid from the rain? You don’t know? Neither do I, but I dare to fantasize. I wish our city streets knew stories, so that on summer evenings, when we sit on the steps in front of St. Blaise, we hear a new story every night. Oh the hands that held her tight. About the secrets that were told. On promises that spilled out like nothing was worth it, it was worth it.”