That morning, I went out onto the balcony completely automatically—to open the window, take a breath, and wake up. And suddenly, it was as if my gaze stumbled on the wall. Something was there. It was moving.Slowly, strangely, as if it had a life of its own. My insides clenched. My first thought was a shadow. My second was a snake. My heart sank, my palms became sweaty, and my breathing became ragged. I froze and simply stared, afraid to even blink.but the longer I looked, the more I realized: it didn’t look like a snake. Its movements were different—not smooth, but jerky, helpless. The creature seemed to be reaching forward, moving inside the wall, but its tail remained outside. “Probably something huge with a thin tail,” I thought.A wave of anxiety and disgust, mixed with fear, washed over me. I

t felt like I’d seen something forbidden, something not meant for the eyes. I wanted to scream and, at the same time, just leave and forget.I walked closer, already trembling. And then I realized it was stuck in a crack in the wall. No way in, no way out. Then the realization dawned—it was a skink. A real lizard. Alive.And at that moment, fear suddenly gave way to pity. It thrashed, clawing at the thing with its paws, but it couldn’t get out. I saw how tired it was, how its tail twitched, and it made me feel even worse inside.athering my courage, I carefully helped it out. My heart was pounding, but I did it. The skink froze immediately, then quickly crawled away as if it had never been there.