The blueness of the sky III She used to tell him that in order for him to get the right meaning he should learn to read again. He never knew what N meant at such times, but if he had a chance, he would at least once like to see a string of words she wrote in the way she did it. Would he be able then to see the place where the lame dancer hid her dreams? Or the face of a man who died, not being able to save the world? N, wrapped in a blanket, was sitting on the floor with a cup of tea in her hands. She was staring at the overcast sky behind the balcony door. The black as the onyx clouds were gliding across it. The storm was coming.