The leaves are blooming with all the shades of autumn. They are so transparent and thin that the sun flashing through them seems to illuminate their edges. Under my feet, their secretive whispering grows louder with each step.  I glance at the sky, trying to catch sight of its clear blue through the interweaving of thin tree branches. The small round clouds are beginning to show traces of pink.  As I walk like this through the forest, my eye is caught by a yellow leaf underfoot. I pick it up and look closely. The edges of it are cut sharp and give the impression that they could sting the fingers.  A thought crosses my mind ...in fact, this would be an excellent dragon's tail, so thorny!  I know that somewhere the dragons pierce the sky with their powerful wings. In past times, the Celts would tell tales of feys. Where did all these magical beings go, when they left our world? Sometimes it seems to me that when I close my eyes and listen carefully to the song of the wind, I recognize in it the words of a story, a story that someone is trying to tell me…