Quiet night... The sky was full of stars. And at the corner of the street, someone had been playing the harmonica since early on.
Two crows, on an old cypress tree, stayed up late decorating their nests with colorful glass pieces they had collected from the trash.

«...What are the people down there doing, and instead of decorating their nests, they keep running... What are they looking for...» one asked, while carefully cleaning the neck of a broken bottle.

«Ah! They are looking for the piece that is missing from their soul. And they run. And they stick whatever they find in its place, trying to portray the image they dreamed of. And they always find something mismatched. That doesn't fit.
»And the image is always distorted. And the dream is always lost. That's how people are. Don't bother with them».