The story of Mr. Zomer

At that time, when I was still climbing trees – and this was a long time ago, very far away, before many years and decades – I was then no taller than a meter, and my shoe size was twenty-eight, and I was light enough that I could fly – no, this is not a lie, I really could fly back then – or at least almost, or rather I should say: it is quite possible that I could have flown then, if I had truly wanted to and was determined, and if I had really tried, because... I still remember perfectly well that once I was about to fly. It was in the fall, during my first school year. I was returning from school to home, and a very strong wind was blowing, to the extent that I could, without spreading my arms, lean into it, like skiers jumping off a snow platform, and even more, without falling... And when I ran into the wind across the meadows descending a hill from the school – since the school was built on a small hill outside the village – and I jumped off the ground slightly, spreading my arms, the wind lifted me, so I could jump effortlessly to a height of two or three meters and step ten meters, or even twelve meters – maybe not that high or that long, and what difference does it make –!