I had just left the Museum of Broken Relationships (!) in Upper Zagreb, where a bride and groom posed kitty-corner for a wedding photographer who wanted a view of the city through a narrow street corridor, perpendicular to Strossmayor Promenade. There was an open door along that street corridor, and I spontaneously stepped through it and climbed the spiral staircase without knowing where it led—in the end, it was only for a rooftop view of the city, and I wasn’t willing to shell out any money for it.
As I made my way back down, I met the bride and groom as they ascended, photographer in tow, perhaps trying to escape the hijinx of the exhibit I had just left.
“Congratulations,” I offered awkwardly in English, unable to remember čestitke or think of anything else to say.