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– Oink!

– Ah! – it’s already mine.

We quickly migrated from the spring meadow to another picture: a cozy living room with a leather armchair and a tea table, behind which a man in expensive clothes sat. He put one hand on his side, and the other leaned on the table, looking at the viewers of the real world with some superiority. I didn’t recognize this picture.

This is a portrait of the rector Ingvar in his own office!

– Where have you taken me, you bastard? – I hissed at the boar, which was slowly making its way to the tea table, currently littered with various deli meats and fruits.

The rector himself, fortunately, did not notice us. And none of them. Neither the one that was in the picture, nor the one that was in the office at the table. But if they were similar in face, then in physique they differed colossally: Rector Ingvar, in his still fairly young years, was a flabby man with an emerging bald head, but the portrait frankly flattered him. There was no talk of any baldness, and the figure was distinguished by the article and the width of the shoulders. For this, he certainly paid a lot to the artist!