One by one the fibres snap beneath the immense cold pressure of the earth, then the last storm comes and, falling, the highest branches drive deep into the ground again. It is full of peaceful thoughts, happy thoughts, this tree. I can't remember a thing. There is a vast upheaval of matter. I'm going out to buy a newspaper.
Nothing ever happens.
All the same, I don't see why we should have a snail on our wall. It was a snail.