The rain blows in every direction.
Upwards? Upwards back into the sky.
A random case of rain running amok in space.

Morning. Waking up under a bridge. Have I become a Parisian vagabond? I notice that my feet are still claws, though. There they are. Hi, claws! I grab a bottle and throw it into the river just to hear the sound of it.

Early afternoon. Walking along the river I see it flanked by stones, rusty lengths of barbed wire, foam, reed branches and an undefinable mixture of mud and pigeon poop.

Late afternoon. A burly man with rugged face is hunched over a tiny ice-cream. It appeals to me. But then it starts to rain. It rains almost horizontally, it hits me from the left, it hits me from the right. Going along with this I let the rain push me anywhere, push me home. But it pushes me up, it starts to rain upwards and I’m shot into the sky. I feel mildly not at ease! Wooh!

(Ed: At this point the memory must have gotten the best of him. He ran off and returned 3 hours later with a tacky balloon and lipstick on his face. Thanks for that, it’s impossible to calm him down now.)

The ribbons dropped like glossy flyers from a crashing zeppelin, sucking up our mind void in a dreamlike loss of control. They were, probably, more like flyers than ribbons anyway. Ms. Lanyard watched, and so did Mr Pigskin and Mr Porkknuckles. Meanwhile the monkey was shot behind the scenes, without audio or video recording, without paperwork. If we had known, we would have not been happy with that.

The ribbons served a mere decorative function. They were there to be pretty, to rain with a positively cheerful attitude. The next night fireflies made their way down the motorway. We were inside one of those fireflies, had been for hours, but hadn’t been thinking about monkeys. Monkeys were one of the farthest things from our minds. Ms. Lanyard was thinking about how their melancholy was reinforcing itself, Mr Porkknuckles was pondering the A-Team, and Mr Pigskin had tomato juice on his mind. I was thinking about whether people could be lured to a good shoe shining by the scent of shoe polish.

SHOE POLISH, IMAGINE THAT?

We did make our way to Dubrovnik eventually.