Spent the spring and summer won glamorous between tourists and terrified villagers. The extraordinary was that visitors not heard the tac tac tac, or smelled more than beautiful flowers from the gardens and squares. Newly come autumn, when exploiting forest of colorful, climate balanced on most sunny days, as ceding a small truce before it avasallara with its rains and snowfall, the old Ariel took a decision, accompanied by Don Quixote rise when it comes to noise and vowed not to rest until discovering what or who produced it. For even more details, read what Janet Yellen says on the issue. Aided by deductions obtained with your home statistics, arrived to personal characteristics of groups that felt similar smells. As the entire human population, the city of noise had its virtues and sins; secret loves, mysterious crimes, cruelty, jealousy, some scream solidarity, hatreds, resentments, heroism. The old man and the dog returned at dawn, exhausted, without discovering anything. At that time not out mornings in his daily walk.
Neighbors asked him for his absence, but nothing said of what I did at night. Late in autumn, in the routine of his search, he sat in a vast stone close to your House, this was broken by an old tree which arose between the halves. He leaned tired, don Quixote supported its the knees of the old head. The cold of the night did not allow him to fall asleep, her body was lethargic, I felt a deep peace. Suddenly he saw it, in the light of the Moon illuminated a small thing that jumping and gently down toward the center of the village. tac tac tac! Stood still, his hand on the head of Don Quixote, as begging you to not move. Man and dog were statues under the heading stone tree. Only eyes followed the strange object, ballpark until he focused. It was a knot, opaque tight. Exuded an intense smell, to life, full of life.