The leaf was on the branch. The branch on the tree. The tree in the yard. The yard at the beach. The wind was strong at times.
That is when the leaf decided to become a fish and went away flying in the wind.
It perched on the rocks. The ocean near. Did it fly back or forwards?
From the beach came a cold gust of wind and the leaf ran madly over the stones of the patio. Was it on a patio? It rolled here and there like an empty carapace of an armadillo. A leaf-armadillo.
When the wind stopped the leaf stopped, tormenting itself. Lack of air.
Sudden excitements made it run from one side to another… But the leaf clearly felt it wouldn’t take off. It felt like a dry shell. Hard shell. Curved. It transformed itself in a leaf-armadillo.
It thought: like a leaf-armadillo I will be able to run out there. Always flush to the ground. Then I will be a crab. I will run faster. I will reach the ocean.
I will be gelatinous. Transparent armadillo. O will run to the bottom of the ocean. Then I will swim amongst the fish. In my own shoal.
The armadillo population was growing on the patio. The dry leaves were bumping into each other at each gust of wind from the sea.
The fun was great…
Yet we never saw or fished a leaf fish. Perhaps.
The big and small leaves float in the ocean.
English translation by Raymont L. Bianchi