A women walks to the well, at the end of the street to fill her buckets up. Then she turns and walks off into the darkness.
Here Arvids lived out his youth. Happily waking up early every morning. Enjoying every moment of his breakfast, but still saving enough time to shave, shine his boots and air out his room. Arvid was a postman. The days went on.
          Arvids met many familiar and unfamiliar faces. He enjoyed anticipating their every day ritual. Mostly they were just acquaintances. Passing by, with only a quick hello.
When Arvids was younger, he lived in the country. He moved to the city looking for luck and fortune. He enjoyed it as well.
          Arvids could fix shoes and knew some foreign languages as well. During the summer he looked after some strawberry patches and a few apple-trees with ripening apples. There once was a cherry tree, but it stopped blossoming and Arvids had to leave it. Oh yes, Sundays he went to church, and spent that day for himself….depending.
          During his free time Arvids wandered around the park, or hiked to the lake just to throw stones. Arvids didn`t particularly like fishing. As he grew older, his long walks became rarer. His health not being as it was.
Books Arvid had a shelf full. Every half a year or so he resorted them over and over into different piles. He really enjoyed reading. While his wife was sick he often read to her out loud. Hermine had passed away middle–aged and their children had already grown up. Justs mowed away to Jelgava, and later settled in Riga. His daughter didn`t marry for some time, but soon enough a German fellow showed up and she went off with him. Every now and then he received letters from her. Anna surly did love her father but only a few years since moving she managed to visit for Christmas. She lived good life. Arvids never got a chance to meet his grandchildren.
          Arvids liked to know everything that went on. Every morning he red the paper. Articles about other countries he carefully cut out and glued in to workbooks. Later he kept those in a box.
Arvids enjoyed autumn, as well as the end of summer. Well, not really the rain, but then he viewed his life as being clearer and having more time. The autumn season had a calmer feel and the world seemed more at peace. The longer nights he left for tinkering, making jam from some of his apples and drying the rest for winter.
Arvids knew of Helen through the paper. He didn`t know too much, but she always was on his mind. Arvids imagined that he would have a lot to talk about with Helen. He didn`t know how they would talk, but still, it would be nice to meet her, maybe even learn her language. To visit Belgium would be out of the question. Maybe she would visit here. Arvid was not lazy and still had work to think about. Arvids put that off for some other day…
          Arvids made a lot of jam, not because he needed it, but more as ritual. Apples with berries and apples alone. He couldn`t eat all of them in one winter and the old ones he never through out. The old ones eventually went bad, but whom did that bother? Apple and berry jam went mostly with pancakes and potato flatcakes, black currant tea as well. Apple jam went with bread, but that was not his favorite. One year Arvids tried to make wine with his jam, but nothing ever came of that.
Maybe that was not even this house, maybe….