The unfathomable depth of the lake in which we swam on that midsummer day gave us the courage to knock on the sculptor's gate with mysterious signs, whose sculptures scattered in the landscape always gave me the feeling that the good Lord was still at work.
Opening it surprised us, Abi almost in his pocket, we did not endure the suspicious glances of those who opened it and expressed our concern, which was basically just shimmering air. And yet a short time later a tender old man appeared who, as if he had been waiting for a long time, led us cheerfully around, chatted, explained. We ate cherries, spewed seeds and turned to leave when the wooden door of a barn a little further away was pushed open. He has been working on this figure for over fifty years.
The old man's gentle gaze at the timid gesture with which the copper woman pushed back her hair, which had long since turned green, suggested an infinite human task that would be almost impossible to complete and which would be the most painful to deliver.
before the auction
the old tool, warm from the sun
weigh in hand