Akil got up long before dawn when it was still dark outside. He threw the harness on his horse. The lights were turned on and off — it took him two seconds to get dressed. The plants outside were swaying from the speed he was riding with.

He was flying towards a large empty field outlined by only two rows of bare trees. He flew off his good friend and became still. He just stood there. Until the contours of his body began to dissolve in space. He took one breath and cleared his lungs. The second breath — he felt the cool pre—morning oxygen, pure as distilled alcohol. The third breath — the smell of green spices came from somewhere far away — still fresh, not burnt by the sun. Another breath — and it seemed that the body was getting drunk on oxygen. This rectangle of space, a vacant, remote field, fitted completely into his chest.

He stood there, breathing.