I’m flying, if I’m not mistaken, to Aberdeen, Scotland, but that doesn’t matter. In the plane, we fly. There are clouds around, only clouds around. Next to me sits an intelligent lady looking, reading a French newspaper. I stuck my nose in the book, everything is peaceful and wonderful. The stewardess passes, the lady breaks away from reading her newspaper, so calmly calls the girl to herself and gently asks "Milotka", and maybe I will open my illuminator, or something very hot.

I am in rain.