[…]
Perhaps there is something in all wells that even these innocents can grasp. And not just the children. […]
The children dance happily around you. One blonde girl looks up with wide eyes. 'This one! This one knows!' She hugs your leg fiercely.
The children sing the song of The Eyes of Children but you listen closer. Not only children feel something more as there are jugs of sour corn beer left at the well