There are dayswhen the fatrain beats thetent like a snaredrum.Sleep is impossible,a distantmemory from youth.Beautiful flowers die,and green isn't quitegreen enough.It turns to olive brown,then black.People don't behaveand we can't make them.I hope there isrest when it's allsaid and...

She entered in the room;Slammed the briefcase;Sat on the bed;And meanwhile was checking optionsFor another place;(After two hours)She entered in the room;Slammed the briefcase;Sat on the bed;and meanwhile was checking optionsFor another place;