Epilogue

A year and a half later

I lay in a snow-white ward with large and bright windows, generously flooded with spring sun, and thought. Winter was almost over, the snow was getting less and less, and last year's grass could not hold back the freezing, but in its own way persistent young shoots of plants. But it was not the arrival of spring that pleased me, but the two small beds that stood next to mine. The birth was not difficult, but as the doctor later said, everything would have turned out to be sadder and more difficult if I had still remained a person. The family of my...