The Puppeteer's diary ~ 16 ~
Rain... I can see it through the window of my chamber. My "guests" downstairs can hear just rustle of raindrops. Though, if anybody wants to, he can press himself to the kitchen window, and through the cracks in old shutters see the sky in clouds and the rain. And a high wall, so similar to the one I've spend six years behind. It's always damp in old England, and then it was raining, too. The memories are as scattered photos.
