They met sometime in the future, on a dry, hot and sunny day. Their paths met in the shade of a quiver tree.

He, with his umbrella; the other with a broken soul.

When asked about the brokenness, he mentioned a bow, the bow with a broken string.

"I cannot understand the plight of this dear wretched soul... Really? A bow; a broken string; a broken man...", he thought to himself.

He drew his attention to his umbrella, and slowly opened it up. He poked holes through the delicate parchment of the canopy with his index. He slowly folded it back up, and broke the bambo tube and ribs across his knee, and thought to himself.

The other, looking up from the broken mess of an umbrella, into his eyes, said: "It is people who broke the string for me."

He didn't lift his mind off the broken umbrella, as they continued to sit in silence, under the canopy of the Quiver.