Kad umrem, prekinuce se jedna srebrna nit sa nanizanim glatkim biserima koji ce se rasuti po zemlji i otkotrljati kuci svojim majkama skoljkama na dnu mora. Ko ce zaroniti za mojim biserima kad mene ne bude vise? Ko ce znati da su bili moji? Ko ce zn...
... perhaps the clock hands had become so tired of going in the same direction year after year that they had suddenly begun to go the opposite way instead...
