You can always spot an abandoned house by its roof. It’s the first thing to go, or at least the first thing your can see from a distance. The terracotta tiles collapse inwards, leaving a gaping hole that grows until only the rough stone walls are left.
As forecast, it’s been a wet night up at Crnopac sklonište. In the morning, the rain finally peters out, leaving the forest floor shiny with wet leaves and the limestone a brilliant, glistening white. I’ve slept badly (again), so I rise slowly while Callum puts on tea. We read some more Howard’s End. Mmm.