Miraculously

Missing for years, the document miraculously came to light the other day.

Only the assumption that the reader - I better say: the prospective reader, because for the moment there is not the slightest prospect, that my writing could see the lights of publicity, - unless it miraculously left our endangered fortress Europe and brought a hint of the secrets of our loneliness to those outside; - I beg to be allowed to begin anew: only because I anticipate the wish to be told casually about the who and what of the writer, I send some few notes on my own individuum out before these openings, - of course not without the awareness that exactly by doing so I might provoke doubts in the reader, that he is in the right hands, which is to say: if I, from all my being, am the right man for a task to which maybe the heart pulls me more than any qualifying relation in character.

He miraculously survived.

Miraculously, none of them died.

Miraculously, all the passengers managed to leave the blazing plane in less than three minutes.

Miraculously, during the fourteenth century, Prague was spared from the Black Death.

And miraculously, he lifted his own violin and started playing, by ear, certain snippets of violin concertos.

Miraculously, nobody was seriously injured.

Miraculously, he guided the full team of oxen through the raging river, unscathed.

Miraculously, Fadil survived the vicious assault.