There is a village on the other side, wherever that other side is. It is a quiet village. Not many houses. Just one street. In the gardens you can spot some vegetable plots. A boy is playing with a cat on the street. A little bit further down is a cafe. There are no other customers. The owner is a bit tightlipped but the omurice he serves is tasty, as is the coffee. Behind the window is a tree full of pomegranades and looking at them made time slip away. There it was again … another time plane. The faint presence of a tale.