The clear, transparent air of that Ihatovo, the deep blue sky that retained a chill even in summer, the city of Molloy adorned with beautiful forests, and the dazzling waves of grass that sparkled in the sunlight on the outskirts.
And alongside that, the many people I shared my days with: Fajero, Rozaro, the shepherd Miro, the rosy-cheeked children, the landowner Temo, and Dr. Boganto Destupargo the Lynx. Now, as I sit here in this dark, immense stone building, they all appear to me like nostalgic blue lantern slides from the past. And so I shall quietly begin to jot down my memories of Ihatovo, from May to October of that year, as I once noted them, with the modest corrections I made at the time.