The Snail Chronicles
1
The wind blew stronger, and the wide river surface was covered with spots. Somewhere the cold glazing of trees, of the sky; in a moment they will appear again. In the cotton of clouds, in the crowns of willows tiny fish, tadpoles shimmered.
There is my reflection in the water. What a jelly-like look I have! Eye-glasses swim on my cheek-bones. I try to put a stop to their oscillation, but instead they flow, squeezing through my fingers and—plop-plop—in the water: the circles run and run away... then it’s peaceful again. Only father extended his arm and said:
“There... there...”
His hand was pointing at the water (the gray sign of fear was on his face)... he doesn’t say anything else, suddenly he turns back and with a quick step sets off straight for home. I want
