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The wind blew in the evenings. It swayed the trees and the stars. “I shake up everything in the whole wide world,” it boasted, for the wind is always full of promises. Yet a quiet, windless morning soon dawns. A silent morning. And everything remains the same as it ever was.
At night, a man in sailor’s garb stole through the cotton wool of sleepy clouds and asked: “What have you done with our ship?” And then he asked: “Do you think we enjoy sitting broke, on a sandbank?” N. thought he was on about the coins, but turns out he meant the house. For some reason, the figure in the sailor’s garb insisted on calling the house a ship.
There was no need to reply. But then came a third question: “How much time do you have left?” “No-one can know this,” thought N. plainly, so the figure obligin
