Pan

The narrator sits in a quiet cabin by the sea, letting thoughts drift back to a long, sun‑filled summer in Ruija. He recalls the endless daylight, the forest that stretched behind his modest hut, and the simple rhythm of walking along the shoreline with his dog Aesopus. Small, vivid details—green bird feathers found in a post‑card envelope, the scent of pine and earth—anchor his memories, while a lingering ache in his old leg hints at a life lived fully.

In this lyrical opening, the story unfolds as a meditation on time, solitude, and the quiet joy of ordinary moments. Listeners are invited to hear the rustle of leaves, the distant cry of seabirds, and the crackle of a fire as the narrator recounts evenings spent with his faithful companion. The tone is gentle yet introspective, offering a portrait of a man who finds comfort in the landscape and in the rhythm of his own thoughts.