He was raging. Everything - wet: the trees, the cobblestones, the city ... Outside, everything alive ran under the roof. And only they stood in the rain. Imprisoned. Taken away. Restless. Two hot rays in the wet ball. In all probability homeless, but sheltered in his love. The black umbrella stretched out, I passed them, I looked at them in blood. And I secretly sighed, "Ah, until yesterday I was also raining like that ... " Tucked away upstairs in his room, I shot them through the rain glasses: two wet birds chasing a tram, homeless, but having endless ... And it rains from my pupils.