It was 1923. The forest smelt with resign and wet undergrowth.
The thick moss muted the footsteps of a men who was forcing
his way through a thicket with a rifle suspended on the shabby,
leather strap. The starlet birds every now and then raised from
the branches, dropping off drops of water from the leaves on the
fur hat of the man.
The forest tough guy with
a margin of output
Anna „Villemo" Biadum
NOŻE
