“It’s stuffy in the stable. A swallow flies in and out through the wide open upper half of the door. She has a nest above the door - five squeaky mouths, there will be enough work until the evening. The mule glances sideways at the swallow and impatiently clangs its chain. Why is the top transverse half open? There was no tall gig rattling in the barn nearby, no gates creaking, no rolling wheels slamming over the threshold, and the owner was not swearing in an unfamiliar language. A straw hat with holes and a cone-shaped, cactus-like collar hang on their pegs... The mule slams his flat hoof into the asphalt - he’s nervous..."