I arrived very early by train to a station without a master, other travelers or even another train. The cleaners allowed me to slip through unnoticed, into the empty morning. My information had been unclear ---only that during the time without glass the group was not coherent. Yet now that their windows opened and shut, they loosely identified themselves as "Dom Promaja", The House of Drafts, and they allowed the wind to carry words through the windows from room to room. The draft was our curse and our salvation. It brought illness or emancipation.
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