No one’s heard of my Riviera since the Franz Josef days
But a redwood grows along its shores
So far from the curtain where I hid from time.
Who says the Slavs can’t have a riviera?
Who says the night is darkest before the dawn?
Sometimes there is no dawn.
Forget the rich: we plebs need our rivieras too
Only here can we forget what the powermongers
Want us to believe: that dawn is a construct.
Take my arm, Pampelka: let’s be noble for an afternoon
None of us are androids, our parts won’t malfunction:
Rivieras have no use for machines, with or without their ghost.
—Opatija, 2024
I love this place and the way you've captured it with so many layers is enthralling, Felix.