boat DAREK KONDEFER
We must get over there. We have already drunk too much water from the river of sadness. Soon, there will be no room for us here. The boat is the key, but the angel has not sent the instrument. We are left alone, with no faith. The sages suggest boats made of stone. Let us listen to them. We have nothing to lose. In the end, they brought us here, to the shore. The crossing may be possible. From now on, our time will be counted down by floating white poplar leaves.