Tuesday, June 27, 2017


Alexander Crown was a character who came to me while I lived in Dubrovnik, Croatia. What I thought was an accident meeting while I stood on the marina docks, had turned out to be a purposeful encounter. He brushed up against me on a warm afternoon while I was looking across the sea. The Adriatic was a vast, deep blue pool of liquid. The sun was a blazing inferno. The warm breeze carried the spicy honey scent of baklava.

My height, a little more muscular in his loose fitting black suit, he wore a pearl white opened collar shirt. Plain black Alani loafers, a five-day growth of beard, piercing golden eyes, and hair thick shoulder length like Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian Man, he actually resembled the drawing with large eyes and furious expression.

I want you to write a story about Croatia, how the Croats search for democracy led Serbia to bloodshed and rape and devastation of thousands of innocent people, Croatians and otherwise.

His drew me into a tailspin. The educated, literate man was indeed a master of something. Was he a genius, artist, prodigy or marvel, perhaps a military veteran, a person with special knowledge and skills in the art of killing and living?

He told me his story, and I wrote Dubrovnik in his exact words. 

Link to Dubrovnik eBook and paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B001JEPAYW

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