PROLOGUE
The wood was still there again. My feet grazed the ground covered by leaves, my fingers touched the rough trunks tall as cathedrals all around me; the sunlight was penetrating transversely across their foliages like blades of radiance. I was running. I was flying. I was at home. And, finally, the shore. The sands crumbled fluffy and warm under my feet while I was running in the water, bathing in the clear and willful waves under that beautiful sky covered by pink and violet clouds. The great palace of white clay was still there, in front of the Ocean, with its complicated geometries of arches and columns, wonderful as any other building made by human hand can do. The sirens was playing in the water few meters from me, sprinkling each other and laughing with their cheerful voices, little drops sliding from their wavy hair. Four little figures was coming to me, the sunlight behind their shoulders draw their silhouettes, but hid their faces. I started running, calling them aloud. It was wonderful to see them again. A great lion with a golden mane was staring us patiently with his ancient and sage amber-colored eyes.