Four hundred ninety-eight, four hundred ninety-nine, five hundred.
Two rounds and the door unlocks.
Inside the room there's nothing irregular, the same old chair uncomfortable enough to keep you awake, next to that an as much old table with a book and an oil lamp on top of it.
I slowly ascend the metallic staircase to observe the last moments of light of the day.
The already red sun lays lazy at the horizon.
I gaze at the crimson sky for some more minutes then I slowly descend the staircase, I open the electric compartment I pull up the main switch and the cyclops' glance lightens the night, I close the electric compartment and I slowly get to the old chair, I light on the oil lamp and I start reading.
The hous pass by and I read.
I read of distant and exotic lands blessed by the sun, I read of luxurious palaces and courthouse lives, I read of impenetrable forests, bandits' nests and hidden treasures. I read.
Past the half of the fourth hour I close the book, better to rest my eyes.
The sea is restless tonight and the unmistakable smell of rain permeates the air.
Two rounds and the door unlocks.
Inside the room there's nothing irregular, the same old chair uncomfortable enough to keep you awake, next to that an as much old table with a book and an oil lamp on top of it.
I slowly ascend the metallic staircase to observe the last moments of light of the day.
The already red sun lays lazy at the horizon.
I gaze at the crimson sky for some more minutes then I slowly descend the staircase, I open the electric compartment I pull up the main switch and the cyclops' glance lightens the night, I close the electric compartment and I slowly get to the old chair, I light on the oil lamp and I start reading.
The hous pass by and I read.
I read of distant and exotic lands blessed by the sun, I read of luxurious palaces and courthouse lives, I read of impenetrable forests, bandits' nests and hidden treasures. I read.
Past the half of the fourth hour I close the book, better to rest my eyes.
The sea is restless tonight and the unmistakable smell of rain permeates the air.
I reach my bag and I pick out a small packet of dried elk meat, I open it and I start to consume it by tiny bites, slowly tasting each piece.
In a small port town like Kyrniavjk wild meat is a luxury one could enjoy few times during the year.
Common people reserves it for "special occasions".
As for me, up in the solitude of this tower the nights all look-alike and I have no "special nights" to reserve these little pleasures to, so when I happen to find myself something the like of this I try to make it last the longer I could.
Little pleasures could fill up great voids sometimes...
As I had foreseen the bad weather did not delay that much, from the windows I manage to see a lightning ripping apart the nocturnal sky, following that the roar of the thunder and the clattering of the rain, firstly weak then growing stronger and louder filling the air of the night.
Few hours remain until dawn.
I put back the dry meat in my bag and I pull out my pipe and some tobacco, there's nothing better than a few breaths of bitter smoke for contemplating in silence the concert that the celestial orchestra is offering tonight.
I breath in the smoke and I hold it on my palate for a few seconds then I breath out deeply.
I light off the lamp I want just the lightnings from outside the windows and the cinder of my pipe to lighten the dark.
I stay still, listening.
The waves that crush on the cliffs, the pelting of the rain, the roar of the thunder...even tough there's no drums to give a rythm, a structure to the work of these instruments, even tough there's no director conducing this orchestra, I could feel harmony in the immensity.
The notes of this "symphony of no one" lull me and the time quickly passes by.
Those that to me seemed like a handful of solemn minutes were actual hours.
The orange-pink light of the dawn wakes me up from that sort of open-eyed dream, I put back the pipe in my bag and I reach to the elctric panel, I pull the switch down, time for the cyclop to return to his slumber.
Slowly I get to the exit, two rounds and the door is locked.
Painfully I start to go down the stairs.
Five hundred, four hundred nienty-nine, four hundred ninety-eight...
I breath in the smoke and I hold it on my palate for a few seconds then I breath out deeply.
I light off the lamp I want just the lightnings from outside the windows and the cinder of my pipe to lighten the dark.
I stay still, listening.
The waves that crush on the cliffs, the pelting of the rain, the roar of the thunder...even tough there's no drums to give a rythm, a structure to the work of these instruments, even tough there's no director conducing this orchestra, I could feel harmony in the immensity.
The notes of this "symphony of no one" lull me and the time quickly passes by.
Those that to me seemed like a handful of solemn minutes were actual hours.
The orange-pink light of the dawn wakes me up from that sort of open-eyed dream, I put back the pipe in my bag and I reach to the elctric panel, I pull the switch down, time for the cyclop to return to his slumber.
Slowly I get to the exit, two rounds and the door is locked.
Painfully I start to go down the stairs.
Five hundred, four hundred nienty-nine, four hundred ninety-eight...
