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Description
Once upon a time there was a free man living in a free world. He was working with his free friend, the wind. Every morning, he was waiting for him, for its breaths, for its whispers, for its songs, for its stories. The wind was his vital energy, his present and his future, his whole life. His entire body was listening to every sign, feeling every shiver... His eyes were permanently looking at the sky, hoping for a smile in the clouds or for a wink of the sun which could announce the beginning of new times...
But sometimes, nothing was happening, no breath, no lullaby, no voice in the air, just silence and emptiness all around. Then, when all the ordinary daily tasks were done, the man was sitting on the hill, his back against the warm wall of his mill, the eyes screwed towards the horizon, and he started to sing. His song was flying over the world, over the skies, inviting his friend to come and play with him.
The free wind was finally coming, sometimes quickly, sometimes later - the man had learned to be patient - and suddenly the wings of the mill were excited like birdies in the nest ready for their first flight...
And then the symphony began. Thousands laughing notes were spinning around and around all days long, millions golden melodies were illuminating the nights...
The man didn’t count, he worked during hours and hours, the wheat had a perfume of happiness and the flour a taste of gift.
Then, when the work was done, he felt asleep like a child, his soul sailing among the milky-way, flirting with the wind, just happy, because tomorrow new bread would be made.

Description
Once upon a time there was a free man living in a free world. He was working with his free friend, the wind. Every morning, he was waiting for him, for its breaths, for its whispers, for its songs, for its stories. The wind was his vital energy, his present and his future, his whole life. His entire body was listening to every sign, feeling every shiver... His eyes were permanently looking at the sky, hoping for a smile in the clouds or for a wink of the sun which could announce the beginning of new times...
But sometimes, nothing was happening, no breath, no lullaby, no voice in the air, just silence and emptiness all around. Then, when all the ordinary daily tasks were done, the man was sitting on the hill, his back against the warm wall of his mill, the eyes screwed towards the horizon, and he started to sing. His song was flying over the world, over the skies, inviting his friend to come and play with him.
The free wind was finally coming, sometimes quickly, sometimes later - the man had learned to be patient - and suddenly the wings of the mill were excited like birdies in the nest ready for their first flight...
And then the symphony began. Thousands laughing notes were spinning around and around all days long, millions golden melodies were illuminating the nights...
The man didn’t count, he worked during hours and hours, the wheat had a perfume of happiness and the flour a taste of gift.
Then, when the work was done, he felt asleep like a child, his soul sailing among the milky-way, flirting with the wind, just happy, because tomorrow new bread would be made.