In one of the cities there lived the Critic, who has been blaming everything he meets.

“Your society is corrupted and petty! Your thoughts and lives are filled with vanity! Your moral is worse than that of animals! Each of you lives only for himself! You are going the wrong way! Grieves and grief await you!”

He became widely known thanks to this unstoppable desire to see a better world – yet people avoided him, and from the grief of his own loneliness, he condemned them even more.

Once, in hopes to dispel the melancholy that has been tormenting him, he was walking through the suburb of his hometown and sat down on the coast of the murmuring spring.

The spring charmed him with a melodious murmur and freshness of its waters.

He was so fond of observation of how waters of the spring carry away autumn leaves, which were occasionally falling down into it, that hasn't noticed how the woman sat down near him, going to scoop spring water.

“Do you like it?” she asked with a smile. “Fresh water flows here.”

“Yes,” replied the Critic. “Water is good and people are, alas, not at all.”

“How many leaves have floated by you while you were drinking?” his interlocutor suddenly asked him. “From what trees each of them fell?”

“That’s a strange question!” the Critic was surprised. “I haven't paid attention to it.”

“Than how could you possibly paid attention to all people, living in this world?” smiled the woman. “Like leaves, they were floating by you, yet you didn't truly notice them. And even the water that is now flowing in the spring is not the one it was several moments ago.”

“What is your point?” questioned the Critic.

“Drink only water of fresh perception!” the woman laughed loudly and poured out a bucket of icy spring water directly on the critic's head.