

Old Man Noah
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Old Man Noah
Old man Noah somehow managed to rip a board off the Ark and stopped to rest. In front of his eyes lay the valley, wrapped in fog, the distant mountain peaks on the other side and the sun slowly setting. He wiped away the sweat from his forehead, sat down and started thinking.
It was obvious that there will be no flood soon and it seemed logical to him to take material from the Ark. There was no way he could live until a second flood – he felt that he had no more than a month left. Why should the Ark sit here and rot?
Despite that, he felt that something was not right.
He looked at the huge box and he felt sorrow. The best part of his life, the most meaningful part, he had spent there. Perhaps he shouldn’t… But maybe it was right precisely because of that.
He sighed and lifted himself


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