Cats and dogs are imitating the rain, shed by the playing wind of dark and cold. Until a specie came from below, thinking that he was the last drop of dog. Wearing nothing but his eyes, burned intensively from my gaze of emotion. Until he decided to shot his lids... Closed... Closed... But he lingers with that soft and soothing fragrance of addiction. Nothing but his cigar.
...story behind pen and paper