Was pretty warm that day -though the light was a particular cold blue shade-, when he walked across the river bank, right up to the valley. The Sun was still, burning and high above his head. Il cielo increspato come il mare d‟autunno. Trees were not really adorning that particular spot, no shadow could ease him. Likewise the trail, though got uneasy, his will became even stronger for taming the crest of east. He also grew aware of what this voyage meant to him. The incandescent sphere, we used to call “Sun”, glimmered all over the place, even so, darkness and soreness was everything one could FEEL. And as the hours went by, “real” darkness begun to overcome the plains, grass faded to a rancid green-black shade and the horizon burned up. Il cielo rifletteva anche il più orgoglioso degli animi. Eventually he was walking the sundown and grand oaks were standing right beside of him … e come la luce si diffondeva, l‟ombra della quercia sembrava assecondare, silenziosamente, le voci del crepuscolo.