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Chapter 3

The following week was even better. It passed to October, the weather was unusually versatile changing from “bloody cold” state to “how is it possible to be so warm?” one. I loved autumn and not because I celebrated my birthday this month but because it gave me the incentive to create. The particular weather, penetrating rains, sombre days which made you to take a book, had a tea and climbed into the windowsill and read, sometimes distracting from the text to admire the views which brought you miles away from the window from your life to the place where you were meant to be even you had no vague idea what this place was. It was my sort of shrine from the outside malice of the world. I would grab a blanket covering in it as I was a caterpillar in a cocoon who was waiting for the crucial moment in its life – to become a splendid butterfly. However there was no chance of any kind like this for me. With my schedule I barely could go to the toilet left alone being in an inventive, creative mood. I didn’t want anything, just lie down and do nothing, contemplating about void.