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An artisan without memories, whose only dream was to die of fatigue in the oblivion and misery of his little gold fishes.
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Every year during the month of March a family of ragged gypsies would set up their tents near the village.
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He went from house to house dragging two metal ingots and everybody was amazed to see pots, pans, tongs, and braziers tumble down from their places.
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Then he made one last effort to search in his heart for the place where his affection had rotted away, and he could not find it.
A Lovely Love Story
Intrigued by that enigma, he dug so deeply into her sentiments that in search of interest he found love, because by trying to make her love him he ended up falling in love with her.
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She had that rare virtue of never existing completely except for that opportune moment.
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In that way the long-awaited visit, for which both had prepared questions and had even anticipated answers, was once more the usual everyday conversation.
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The woman let out an expansive laugh that resounded through the house like a spray of broken glass.