When evening comes, we all water the yard. Evenings around here there is a lull in the wind, and not a single thing stirs. Mother hates this evening calm. So she waters the entire yard, to get some cool air, she says. You’ve got to give to the earth more than you receive. Cause people are made from the earth, you see. The force of water spewing out from the tap is a frightful thing, and in the blink of an eye will bore a hole in the earth, mow the lawn, snap off treetops. What’s exhilarating is when you spray water upwind, and people get soaked to the core. Eventually we are thoroughly drenched, and feeling with satisfaction how the water has seeped through, say, ‘Now the yard has had enough,’ and go off to dry our clothes.
I am the only one who can not get to sleep. I can clearly see the wind blustering about, notwithstanding the dark and low-hanging clouds. There were neither moon nor stars in sight, and no sparkling bolts of lightning either. This sight which surprises you must be nothing more than an electrical phenomenon. And the evening breeze is cold and bad for you. Not only the things lying about on the ground, but even the large clouds blown about sparkled like some kind of mist, enveloping the entire land. I was moving my lips but could not form words. In my surprise, my body fell into a stupor and my face went pale. For a while I stood still like this, but then said “That’s enough. Let’s go back.” Tears flooded my eyes.