Twenty five years ago a friend gave me a copy of Nostradamus' writings as a gift. I thumbed through it and recall thinking, "This man really could not write", and put it aside. I have always, however, treated books with a certain reverence and while I did not care to read it, I didn't wish to throw it away either. So, for all this time, it sat packed in a box waiting for that moment I would need it.
Ma olen siiski alati kohelnud raamatuid teatud austusega ja ehkki ma ei viitsinud seda lugeda, ei visanud ma seda ka minema. Niisiis ootas see kogu see aeg pakituna aega, mil mul seda vaja läheb.