18.
The Sun and the Moon played a game, and the score was even, because the weather was fine and the number of cloudless sunrises was equal to the number of majestic moons that got sunk in night’s dark waters.
One morning Swidersky got a letter inviting him to a literary festival in Ireland. It was written on pretty greenish paper with a Celtic harp. The festival was to take place in two month’s time.
A silvery green Irish víosa, i.e. an entry visa for Ireland, appeared in his passport a fortnight later. That evening the West glowed with the ghostly gold of Celtic kings while darkness spread menacingly in the East. But it was not frightening. And things no longer seemed hopeless.
Maybe things would be better for me in Ireland, he thought. After all, where am I now, how did I end up her
