Robin Bell looked wistfully out into the storm, the window pane fractured by beads of water running down the glass. As the kettle started to whistle, he hobbled over to the cupboard and took out his favourite enamel mug, white with orange nasturtiums. With his tea made, he shuffled to the table.
SMALL MAN COUNTS TO A BILLION read the headline of the newspaper. Fairies danced in the flames of the fire, flicking back their heads and laughing. Again, Robin walked to the window. It hadn´t stopped raining since the tenth of July five years ago. He would give anything for a snatch of sun. But that would never be possible.
– Scroch Duliton, Warsaw