The birdsong came back ,this time with a bearded man .The sky was deep blue in the mountains and beyond and gently touching them.
The man’s eyes slept for long .The blue in them disappeared, above the yellow stone shelter,in the translucent April sky. It had rained from the white sky and he had slept and slept as if he had not woken up from yesterday’s deep sleep and the sleep of the day before when my car had passed.
His breathing was rhythmic .There was no life in hurry .Yesterday he had existed and today his breath stirred under the unkempt beard.
Tomorrow under the blue sky when my car will pass this way there will be grey space .Then my eyes will turn away and I shall roll down the panes.