The inner life was however, also Vito’s friend’s source of happiness and what had given him a rich and joyful life, especially after he had learned the many ways of managing his own mind. And as Vito sometimes wondered why they had become such good friends over a life time, being so different, his friend had long since reflected over and solved this little mystery for himself, but also for both of them. And maybe today, his friend thought, Vito will come to understand the same thing. But if not, it didn’t matter. Vito lived by his instincts, and experience had given him trust in them, that they provided him with substance and happiness for his life. The reasons were not always that important for him.
A few more leaves rattled over the cobblestones, and the sunlight was gradually warming up the thin layer of air right above the ground, creating a slightly blurred field of vision as they looked at the fountain and then up at the church. They both loved autumn.
(This is from the opening of the story of the two old friends.)