Came back to the old lady of Split and receive white grapes: white grapes are green. To get clad properly for a day out walking. Socks and boots. I wonder if I can get Soparnik cheaper than 10kuna in the greenmarket?
All grapes have seeds in the rest of Europe. The same grapes used to make wine are eaten daily too. The trick is to swallow the seeds. I need to write a postcard to Sallyann.
On Bilanova Ulica Jesus walked by carrying his groceries and free of disciples up to Calvary.
No more Sobarnik
to eat, but Borek
is another peasant fair, which is slightly boring to me.
I walked into the more modern and less cared for Split. The one of tenements and broken road surfaces and dogshit and washing hanging in balconied 1 room maisonettes. This is where the fog has gone; gassing all the languid and exhausted ladies and vile split smile elderly men. The rain has been threatening all day. And now the clouds pour forth to wash the dirt away from the smiles and grimaces of statues about the palace. I step into the gallery and keep dry a while.