Translated by: Zoran Ančevski
The park that starts at the edge of the town, slowly loses its order and takes on the features of a true forest, the farther into it I proceed. The soft summer twilight descends and I consider returning: such places at this time of day can be inhospitable for the solitary wanderer. And truly, in one clearing among the trees lit by some late reflection from the sky, I hear noise and movement. No, no danger: a group of cheerful boys and girls are playing a game with a blindfold. One of them has his eyes covered and seeks the others who merrily hop around him. They take me into the game at once, and, I believe, the role of the seeker falls upon me too soon. I turn around with my eyes covered but I do not manage to catch anyone. I even have the impression that the voices and the sounds of the players are receding from me. Even the ground changes: it is no longer soft soil with fallen leaves but a hard surface with some kind of familiar smoothness and squeakiness. Is it possible that while seeking I distanced myself from the game? Is it possible that I may have taken a wrong step? Finally I grasp an outstretched arm: fingers, a palm, a sleeve of clothing. But they are somehow much too cold and hard. I take the blindfold off: I am surrounded by fixed white figures. What I stand upon is smooth parquet, the figures are marble statues, and all about me is the hall of some museum. Only the roof is missing. From the gaping hole above I can still see the faint light of the sky and, then, it starts to snow.