That clear wind of Ihatovo, the blue sky that holds a chill even in summer, the city of Molio adorned with beautiful forests, the dazzling waves of grass in the suburbs.
And all the people I met there—Fazero and Rosaro, the shepherd Miro, the red-faced children, the landowner Teemo, Dr. Bogant Destupago the wildcat—as I think of them now inside this dark, huge stone building, they all seem like nostalgic blue lantern slides from a bygone era.