The sun was shining beautifully, the leaves of the trees were already turning green here and there.

  But it would be nice to get out on the dam a bit now. The others have long since left and I was listening to Mr Arkon's ramblings and I got lost. She was a bit upset, then she took out her mobile and looked up her best friend's number. He rang.

  - Answer the phone," he muttered to himself, a little tense, but the phone kept ringing. He was just outside the school, where he had put his bag down on a bench at the edge of the park to make the call more comfortable. Then the phone went silent.

  - "Shit," he kicked perhaps the only stone on the newly paved, sand-coloured pavement, which was always cleaned in the morning. The stone lifted, bounced a few times, then ricocheted off the curb and smashed straight into the trash can next to it. When you see something like that on film, you say it's not real, it's just a camera trick, such a kick is not possible.

  - "Nice kick, brother, one in a million," a voice said behind him.

  The boy looked back. At the base of the tree, on a double-folded black-and-white plaid plank, sat a grey, long-bearded old man with a bag of cherries in his hand. In his surprise, Sparrow suddenly couldn't speak, just stared at the strange monk, in his butter-coloured balloon coat that almost reached the ground, and who he could have sworn hadn't just been sitting under the tree. On his long, wrinkled ring finger he wore a large emerald seal ring, which reflected the light of the sunbeams streaming through the tree canopy straight into the boy's eyes. The old man took a bite of the fruit, bit into a few grains, munched, then held the bag out to the boy.

  - "Take it, it balances and soothes the soul," he said, and then, one by one, he took the seeds he had collected in his hand, clasped them between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and poured them, one by one, into the bin about three metres away, with a top opening barely the size of the palm of his hand. Right where Géb had just kicked the pebble by accident.

  - "No, thank you," the boy said, recovering from the long seconds of astonishment

  - "As you wish," replied the jet-black-eyed, friendly-smiling man of a ripe old age, with measured calm.

  - 'Dumbledore,' he thought, his jaw still dropped, looking at the bin or at the old man, trying to process the trick he had just seen, or whatever it was, while the old man finished eating another cherry. He spat the seeds into his hand with a meticulous gesture and then, as if nothing was more natural, he threw them back into the bin.

  - This is incredible. How does he do it, he asked himself, and the Old Man spoke.

  - You think you kicked that rock into place by accident, don't you?

  - In its place?" the boy asked back, from one amazement to another.

  - Everything that exists is striving to find its place again. Back to where it started. Our job is to help things fall back into place," he continued. The mysterious sounding, misty statement left her mouth with the naturalness of a lecture on brushing your teeth in the morning or making a bowl of bean sprouts.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  - Our business?" the increasingly uncomfortable boy looked at him with wide eyes.

  - Could he be crazy? - he thought.

  - It is not easy to define in today's world who is insane and who is sane," the grey Old Man answered quickly to the unasked question, and then added without hesitation, "Just yesterday they took down the scaffolding of that church for the renovation," he pointed with his signet-ringed finger to the sun-yellow church steeple towering in the opposite corner of the square. The steeple clock is also running again and the wrought-iron trim on the solid oak doorway has been replaced with brand new. See how beautiful it is?

  He looked at the building with a contented serenity.

  - It has been renewed in almost every detail," he acknowledged approvingly, "and it glorifies the faithful's adoration of God in a lofty way, and assures him of their unbroken faith and holy commitment to proclaim love wherever their path leads. 'Amen,' he added curtly, 'Only one thing remained the same, and because it did not fit in any way with the renewed image of unbroken faith, it was banished a little further away from the imposing monumental entrance gate. I'm talking about the beggar who used to beg alms from the faithful on the steps and now sits on the edge of the side aisle of the church with a broken plastic cup in his hand and 60 forints in it.

  "Do not build temples for my father, for my father's temple is the world. A field under a starry sky. A moonlit beach. A grove. Or a cave where the nymphs play. Of course, not every word of Jesus made it into the Bible, he hummed, then looked the boy in the eye with a penetrating look and asked. Are you worried that your friends have left you here?" the mysterious old man changed the subject. Worrying doesn't help much in this world. 'True faith and committed action are what move the world's wobbly wheels forward,' the strange figure finished visibly, then pulled his large-brimmed white hat over his eyes and settled back comfortably against the trunk of the old tree.

  At that moment, Géb's phone rang. The boy flinched, looked at the Old Man, then picked up. It was his friend Berny.

  - "Where are you?" asked Géb, a little reproachfully, taking a few steps away from the Old Man.

  - "Here," was the answer. Where are you?

  - What do you mean, here? Don't mess with me, and he started to get pumped up.

  - Exactly where we need to be.

  - 'Everyone's gone mad today,' said Géb, as this was the last conversation he wanted to have.

  - Man, I wrote down on a piece of paper where we're going, where you can find me. I stuffed it into the outside pocket of your bag in such a visible way that even Poirot's assistant, that blind Captain Hastings, would have seen it. Did not you read it?

  He held his phone to his ear with his right shoulder, then grabbed his bag with both hands and turned it on its side. There it was, tucked inside, very visibly, a folded piece of paper. He quickly unfolded it and began to read.

  - Are you still there, Géb? - his friend asked, listening to the silence.

  - Yes, yes - the paper is here. Sorry mate for the outburst, but I thought everyone had gone mad today. There's an Old Man here. But whatever. I'm gonna go after you guys. I'll be there in about 20 minutes.

  - A man with a white beard?" asked Berny.

  - How do you know? - is everyone mind-reading today?" laughed Géb and wiped the drops of sweat dripping down his neck with his sweater from his bag.

  - Is it still there?

  - "Who, the Old Man?" asked Géb, and feeling that he had asked a stupid question, he turned round to see if the man had fallen asleep under his hat.

  To his surprise, he saw no one under the tree. He looked around. His gaze swept over the park benches, the area behind the trees, the sidewalk beside the road, even looked across the square, but nothing.

  - It's gone.

  - Relax, he did the same to us. We definitely need to talk. Come right away!