The monastery had closed.
It no longer waited for anyone.
At least this was what the nuns believed.
He hadn’t said anything.
He looked at the sky.
That would be the cupola of the church.
He had learned about the prohibition.
And he had to find Peter.
As quickly as possible, he thought.
Thus one of the greatest paradoxes of Time began.
They had to run so that they walked
as slow as possible on the centuries,
as if it were sea.
Who could be prepared
for such a course?
Who could already be at the beginning?
He who was already ready.
He who had lived the end.
That was the Thousand-year Man.