Pitaju_me_svi Access

Finally, Marko stood up. The tavern went quiet. The clinking of glasses stopped.

Marko offered a tight, polite smile. "Just traveling, Stjepan. Just living." But "just living" was never enough for the people of Omiš. The Gathering pitaju_me_svi

The questions didn't stop, but their power did. When someone would approach him at the market and start with "Pitaju me svi...", Marko would simply hand them an orange or a piece of bread and smile. Finally, Marko stood up

And in the quiet evenings, as the sun dipped below the horizon, turning the sea into a sheet of hammered gold, the only voice he heard was the wind—and it didn't ask him a single thing. Marko offered a tight, polite smile

He realized that the "everyone" they spoke of wasn't a judge or a jury. It was just a community trying to make sense of a gap in their own history. He wasn't a mystery to be solved anymore; he was just Marko, the man who came home.