Every day, around noon, all the men, is that soon, sank in coomb, in a phlegmatic drowsiness. That, He knew; and his crew; for cats are for fools, best observers to rule! No loquaciousness; no merchandizing; no fidgeting things; at that time of the day. There, the donkeys stay stiff as a poker; There, remnant air is piling up on the smoker; There, the shadow is too tired to grow longer. The streets were so quiet, sole the Ting and the Tang of the bells, and the song of the Buddhist's monks, disrupted the air with their vibrant hummed hymn. Time it was, for a flying translucent white butterfly, to visit...

To Be Continued ... (with the wind as sole guide)

All Pictures © Du Laddak Cattery, 2002