Straight road laid ahead, as he was walking through the shivering, cold rain. There was no moon, no nothing to reveal his path, but only those so yellow fugitive lights starring four meters above him. And, of course, the one that cars made passing by. Passing, passing, like the beat of a song. He had the power to stop this song. Only if, as a butterfly, he would've jumped to the light, adding spice, drama to the melody. Turning the monotonous life of that other one into excitement, forcing that brain of him to finally produce the right amount of adrenaline...but he didn't.
Despite the rain there still were citizens going down and up the street. Machines looking straight ahead, never stopping to admire the glittering powder of a rainbow. Beautiful women for whom he was falling in love, for everyone which he saw. Sparks in a barrel of gunpowder, a total mess that mechanism was. A reversed watch, always going for an hour or two and then suddenly turning back. The battle for England right above his head.
Now you may see him running between pools, sometimes splashing himself and the others with that dirty water. A game that others were just dreaming. You could've seen the drops of water floating here and there if you would've stopped the time. And that he did.