The boat on which the little girl with a red sweater, the penguins, a salamander, a butterfly and an old and sad man were packed drifted slowly on the Austrian Ocean not far from Vienna. Whether or not it was heading to Arezzo where Piero della Francesca’s frescoes were on display was a source of intense stress for the salamander. Others were contemplating the water which seemed to disappear in a maelstrom beyond the red horizon. The little girl with red shoes who could not hear, see or feel anything sat still next to the butterfly and both were smiling to an undefined prospect. The penguins and the old and sad man were playing a card game with a profusion of noise, complaints and concerns, a situation which was probably exacerbated by the fact they did not have any cards. At one stage, the salamander noticed that it might not be absolutely in accordance with their own desire that the level of water within the boat seemed to rise up slowly but constantly and that possibly something should be done about it. The butterfly commented that she would be the sole soul unaffected by any drowning situation, a fact she regretted utterly when others noticed with a tainted irony that she was metamorphosing into a cat. None was however reacted tragically to these events since all knew far too well that hope was an undefined and variable concept in their realm which ended where death could not enter.