IRC-Galleria

It was a dark autumn morn. The rain watered every single person who was going to job or school by bike and I was one of those hopeless wayfarers. I was on my way to build my future destiny. It was the week of practical training in my school and the only place I managed to talk myself into was our family's building site where my father was working really hard to build a new houde for my family from several pieces of wood. But I wasn't brave enough to jump into this magical journey alone, so I grapped my classmate Antti with me. From the very beginning he took his responsibility in this mission with great passion. We felt that we were part of something greater than us: we were going to work.

As we landed from our rosey dreams, ready for practising the noble art of building, we lifted our eyes, and behold: there was a house. When it stood on the top of a hill, it seemed to glitter in the light of divine glory. It was almost habitable and I said to Antti: 'My friend, my brother, isn't it honourable that we shall be the ones who shall finish the building of this mansion?' And he said to me: 'So it is, o confederate, so it is.'

And so my father came out of the house he had built with his own hands. Like an antique relayer he carried to hammers as a symbol of the circle of generations. He gave the tools to us. We gasped when he opened his mouth ---

'I totally forgot that you boys were coming, so there's actually nothing for you to do. But there are some useless pieces of wood - you can try to separate the nails from them!'

That was the stupidest week in my life.