The Caravan was about to leave. The usual transport of barrels and goods. All of this in a monotonous little town, people who loaded and uploaded goods every day. A boy didn't want to leave, but he knew he had to. He was fond of his women, of justice of his town he kept up with the sheriff, even if with difficulty. He was fond of his home, his shelter, his family.

The Caravan left. The travel was very tiring. Beautiful landscapes, but there were always too many stops. It was a monotonous process, people who went up and down, all ready for their destination. Nobody cared about the journey itself. Same sounds, same road, same stops. But if you tried to give only a little extra look, there was more than just a road. The boy got on board but he was injured in a leg, because of a little justice experience. He rested in the caravan, on his seat. He observed only what the caravan offered him. Mountain ranges with steep slopes, whose peaks sometimes pointed, sometimes rounded by atmospheric agents. Rivers, brooks, torrents, waterfalls, with big, tight or large curves, that nourished of vital energy every being. Sparkling valleys of trees and flowers, shepherds which protected their own life's source, farmers of what the earth offered them. Life that flowed. If it had not been for the injured leg, he would have lost this natural wonder, as everyone else.

These observations and careful glances caused a break of the continuous cycle that Nature and the caravan had together. Carriages trembled, roads were diverted, people who screamed, they were all afraid, they didn't know what awaited them because they had never seen anything like that, they knew that it wasn't the monotone route they expected and carried them to their destinations. Nature rebelled. The wind shook the caravan, some carriages broke off because of the enormous power it generated. The caravan was coasting an impetuous sea at this moment and many goods, that men had carefully laid down in the caravan, came slowly down to the waves, including canvas, carpets and barrels. In the same time waves threw those goods against the caravan, like a self-mutilation, that obviously the caravan didn't caused. The storm increased. The boy was afraid but at the same time he was surprised and amazed in admiring such a naturalistic manifestation. He didn't understand, he saw his certainty break, the caravan in pieces. He wondered what it had changed. He hadn't respected the monotonous cycle that everyone did in the caravan. He felt guilty but Nature saved him, destroying instead everything he has seen, caravan, landscapes, animals, trees, people. All of goods thrown at sea didn't touch him, as if he was protected by some supernatural force. He remained there to be a spectator of a storm he had caused.

End of the storm. Terrible landscape. The caravan survived for a while. People who continued screaming, wounded, waiting for relief that would never arrive. Quiet after the storm. Only silence all around the caravan, which now didn't walk anymore, it had no longer the strength to move on. The boy was sad, he didn't know what to do, he couldn't move like the caravan, like two alone and scattered souls. He was paralyzed by what he had seen, and probably he will never see the cycle of life that only he had admired.

Suddenly a cloudy mass came close. People were afraid, they were not ready for another storm. But the mass didn't cover all the celestial space and so the sun recovered its space with its rays, accompanied by a short rain that began to fall on the caravan, creating a small rainbow on it. People gave a sigh of relief. Thanks to it, the caravan shone again, life began, and also the cycle of life. The boy lit up looking at the rainbow, something he had never seen happen in that cycle that happened every day. This gave him strength to finally get up and once the caravan restarted, he was ready to go down to his destination.