A sudden spring breeze knocked the yard’s old bell against the wall. The children fled with great speed like an arrow from a bow. They had reached their limits from memorizing the symbols of the periodic table... and all narratives are formed from minor collisions, like the first knot that sits on a thread but has no meaning on its own; the map, the way, the goal, which one is decisive for victory when none of these alone are important for the logical structure of the narrative? It is rather those small encounters that drag the long story of One Thousand and One Nights from one narrative to another.