Heard a muffled blow tools . When approached again, I saw that it caused uproar three people with short stature . Something related to the axis of the earth . Was not bothered at all by my presence and continued their work . Looked like a repair . I do not know if I asked ç'bënin or automatically as it became clear : they were doing a fix on the shaft . One difference , apparently , the speed of rotation . This will sajoheshin different days , njëzetekatërorëshe not , as before , but tridhjetetetorëshe . But would njëzetedyorëshe nights . According to various studies and surveys , so was somewhat better . I had the impression that somewhere I had read in the press about this. I wanted to ask : when will start this new calendar , but I do not know why , I asked for another thing : since dealing with such things , surely , can disassemble pieces from the world of the time . Posi , they said . So well did this and they do not feel that hard . O Lord , how simple it was somewhat seemingly impossible : pull out all the grief itself . I tried to explain , I wanted to give myself a day or , more accurately , a bitter evening . They laughed . One evening ? Yes we work with large pieces . Half centuries , decades , many - many years . Courses are vocërrima days . However ( looked at their tools ) , perhaps the most finely can seize the day . - Where is it day ? - Asked one of them . - How ? - I made it . - The day that you want to disconnect , to understand you correctly. You want to remove it and attach the strings again , right ? - Exactly . - So , where is it ? O God , I do not remember anything . Drowned in sweat , but my head was much more becoming more blurred. - In no year , at least , time , - he said . But I was not remember anything . I only knew that it was bitter , very bitter . - But what happened that day ? Perhaps you remember it , - he said . - Ç'perandori is inverted , ç'tërmet has fallen ? Looked at each other , when they saw that s'përgjigjesha . Then their tired eyes turned aside somewhere , where in a remote reel bouncing , apparently , fallen empires slow , themelitë centuries of earthquakes and skeletons . Zymtas bouncing , overwhelmed by cold lightning . Nothing gave me remember . Just taste the bitterness , the pazbutshme , insoluble . Then I thought I saw something , like a dress that took shape in a wind oscillation remains. - A woman , - I said . - Was there on that day , a woman ... They laughed , but cold . Then again looked artefacts. - If it be so , it is impossible . These tools s ' do about it. - Ma remove that evening with the woman - I blurted . I woke up . Zhurmërimi rain reminded me before anything else where I was . Hotel . Foliage and fallen off and the bodies of massacred cigarettes , where one party can distinguish from each other by a red belt ... It was nearby , a few steps away and , surely , was restless and had nightmare , because , in one way or another , felt that I should try to burial .