I am walking along a river which is more likely to be a canal, with trees on both sides and high grass, fresh and green, full of pink and red flowers. Everything is calm and so peaceful that one does feel like laying down and daydreaming. But I go on with the idea that I have to take a steamer which must be anchored here, some place, and that I cannot find. I am looking for it, but I am not too eager to find it; everything around me is so nice and appealing and makes me feel like staying. I have the impression of being really alone, but I am not concerned about it. On the contrary, I feel very much relieved to have nobody to push me around. Just something very softly in me makes me walk toward that boat which is going to take me home.