13.
A shoal of tuna fish ran fast with their silvery color, opening the waters in two with their sharp contour, unwittingly following the maze of the tuna-fishing nets that the fishermen had prepared for them days before: they ran fast, going towards their death. They ran through the chambers made of nets, until they reached the last one, called the death chamber, for understandable reasons.
Greta was dreaming. She had just finished dinner and decided to lay down exhausted on the bed in the small cell, where she was about to spend her last night in the convent.
She was going over her dreams, almost weightless.
She was recalling, with the power of the memories, a day long gone when she was brought to see the slaughter of tuna fish: she still remembered the warm air that touched her ski
