... everywhere. That's why I was no foreigner to them, they were my clouds. So it was no problem now, wherever the clouds were, the place was mine. I started wandering in the streets. While roving around, somewhere in the middle of the Big Apple, in abandoned streets, I could see the flipside of the dazzling picture of the metropolis. It was all dark; it was all full of drug-addicts and unofficially declared insignificant old people waiting for no one but the angel of bereavement. I didn't dream my dream to be like this so I left the place. I went to Downtown and that was the first mistake I made. I was too busy flying in Manhattan with my delusions that I forgot Interpol. They were after me ever since I landed here; after all I was a prohibited migrant. For a split second I thought I should let them know why I ...

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