He watched the three young women relaxing in the spring meadow for a long time.
The three graces, sheltered by lace parasols, were cheerfully discussing something around a folding table and laughing loudly.
He didn’t want to disturb their peace.
So he stood behind a large tree and silently admired their youth and beauty.
He noticed how one of the girls showed her friends a piece of paper and began speaking words he couldn’t understand with great expression.
Although the words were incomprehensible to him, he realized that the girls really liked this piece of paper.
They laughed loudly and joked nonstop.
Finally, the girl placed the leaf on the table, and her friends headed toward the riverbank.
He cautiously stepped out from behind the tree and approached the table where that very leaf lay.
He cautiously sniffed it.
At first, it seemed to him that the leaf didn’t smell like the girls’ boisterous laughter, but like something foreign, something manufactured. He remembered that smell from when the milkmaids used to examine the little colorful sheets of paper on the farm and call them magazines.
Now he looked at the huge sheet and wondered why the girls had been laughing so merrily.
Unable to come up with anything sensible, he made up his mind and began to chew the sheet.
To him, it tasted like dry grass that a tractor had driven over.
But he chewed the sheet all the way through and didn’t notice when the girls returned to the table.
“Look, Lola,” one of them exclaimed, “this cute little bull ate all our magazines!”
The girls laughed merrily again and, waving goodbye to him, headed home.