Yanik the Wanderer first came to the village when I was only five. Young, handsome, he delighted all of us children with tales of terrible monsters and brave heroes. Later, he handed out sweets to distract us while he discussed business with our parents.
The second time he came to the village, I was a man just wed, with a newborn son of my own. Yanik did not look at all different.
Now, decades later, he is here again. He is still unchanged whereas I am old and wrinkled. Perhaps in my youth, I should have taken to the roads.