And he decided that life as it was, did not actually fit him
They sat together at nights, before the firewood stove in the kitchen, once having finished with the daily chores. His mother, would narrate stories that described how life was interpreted a long and distant time ago, way before she was born.
Those tales that at night, were now mostly forgotten. She would relate them in a soft voice, while his father quietly drank his coffee and smoked a cigarette, sitting in his favourite chair.
A tear suddenly appeared in the corner of the old, traveller’s eye, as he evoked those pleasant nights, that also belonged to long ago times in his life.
