As they climbed up, it seemed to Marcovaldo that he was gradually shedding the moldy smell of the warehouse in which he shifted packages for eight hours a day and the damp stains on the walls of his house and the dust that settled, gilded, in the cone of light from the little window, and the fits of coughing in the darkness.
Igotzen zen neurrian, Marcovaldor iruditzen zitzaion gainetik kentzen zituela egunean zortzi orduz fardelak alde batetik bestera garraiatzen lan egiten zuen almazeneko lizun usaina, eta bere pisuko hormetako izerdia, eta leihatilako argi errainuan urre kolorez erortzen zen hautsa, eta gaueko eztulak.