We come out of the darkness, no, we enter; outside there is darkness, here something can be seen amid the smoke; the light is smoky, perhaps from candles, but colors can be seen, yellows, blues, on the white, on the table, colored patches, reds, also greens, with black outlines, drawings on white rectangles scattered over the table.

There are some SWORDS slaching at us, among the leaves, the ambushes in the darkness where we were lost, luckily we saw a light in the END, a DOOR, there are some gold COINS that shine, some CUPS, this table arryed with glasses and plates, bowls of stemaing soup, tankards of wine; we are safe but still HALF-DEAD with fright; we can tell about it, we would have plenty to tell,each would like to tell the others what happened to him, what he was forced to see, with his own eyes in the darkness, in the silence.

...