It has been reported to me that in the city of Basel there lives a man who is called Florian the percussionist. He is a poor man who carries burdens on his head for wages. One day, when he had to carry a heavy drum again, it so happened that he collapsed under the weight, for it was a very hot day. And he started to sweat and the heat made him very depressed. Then he passed the house of a vibraphone player named Jim, the air was cool and there was a wide bench by the front door. Next to it is a sign: "I am Moerph!" Lovely sounds came towards him from the door and all kinds of tunes that delighted him. "I am Pyrill!" he then exclaimed, spread a pinch of stardust over his head and then entered the garden.