In the blue twilight of the heavenly ether floats an ancient, ancient Wheel. The Wheel of Samsara. So ancient that few remember it anymore. Because of this, it has become dilapidated and year after year, slowly and steadily, it falls apart right in mid-air. Old and decrepit, but still majestic and formidable, it carries, captured by its chains, a feather of the Blue Bird. Powerful chains are taut, they hold their load tightly. But wait, how much does this feather weigh? And, in general, is the chain suitable for holding it? After all, just a breath of light wind and that's it, and the feather will soar freely in endless space. And the chains will sag, having lost their burden. And where will the wheel fly now? Somewhere further, beyond the horizon, beyond the limits of former illusions.