The room was slowly sinking into the darkness. The shapes of the objects were losing their definition, and the setting sun rays that hardly touched the windowsill were slightly illuminating a figure, sitting opposite the window and being wrapped up in a woolen plaid. The man was far not young. It was hard to determine his age as life left a deep imprint on his face. He was pensively looking into the distance, and his eyes reflected either deep sadness or cool tranquility. The eyes… Once sky-blue, now they were bearing the color of pale winter mornings. Yet, the look was not cold at all.
His eyesight also was not as sharp as before. This could be judged by a pair of glasses lying on the bookshelf. The man's look was wandering through the kitchen on the other side of the road, but it seemed
