“In some house, in some apartment there is a quiet storage room. There is an old one-door wardrobe in that closet. He is a hundred years old, or maybe a little older. The cabinet was made from dark bog oak. He himself is all strong and huge, like a magical giant. None of the family even remembered where it came from. Either my grandfather bought it, or my grandfather’s grandfather bought it. Everyone called him in the old manner, respectfully and with a capital letter: Mr. Cupboard, and not just a cupboard, as they say now. And only one local owner, Mama Dragomila, looked angrily at the old wardrobe...”