I couldn’t even understand what his name was. He shouted at me while I was peeping under an old, deserted bridge that seemed to me even more beautiful – probably because there was thick fog. I even thought, from time to time that just an enormous cloud had fallen over the whole village and was not able to return to the sky because it was so thick that it had simply caught the branches of the trees. And I adore fog and rain – as if they make me better. So, the stranger and I started talking on various topics – in fact he was talking almost all the time. He told me he had served somewhere around Kiev. He told me also that his children lived in the capital now and they didn’t come to visit him very often. He told me how different people in the capital were in comparison to those in the villages and small towns in Bulgaria. In fact, I had already seen that with my own eyes! To tell you the truth, I couldn’t catch a lot of his broken Russian – he was talking too silently – I had to come nearer to hear him. Very gently and lightly, almost invisibly, I came nearer – he didn’t make even a step back. In his calloused-hardened hands he was holding some barbed wire, used as a fence, and because of the slight excitement he was pressing it all the time. I didn’t want to miss this moment. We said good-bye as unexpectedly as we had met.