There are many who swear by the constitution of erotism and parade as new recruits with orchestral music and a sea of their beloved's rainwater. And oh Wilhelmine, with a deep soul, you come wearing the colors of the full moon, becoming Astraea, Nefeli, or Elephantida – moving through dark fields guided only by the chirping of the oriole and the oriole, with the ears of wheat waving as if the illegal immigrants are approaching the edges of the world. At dawn, the endless sighs turn into small footprints of a distant century, and the most hidden secrets are crushed by the earthly lightning of Cronus.