The serious writer had worn a black patch on his left wonky eye for days and had lain in a dark room imprisoned with fierce imagination as his only companion.

He finally left the house to get some air. Out on the street, a break dancer was spinning round and round. His xanthous baseball cap lay on the sidewalk like a sacred Tibetan bronze bowl. A radio stood next to it blaring loud music and the words ‘PLEEZE DONADE’ were visible on the concrete.

The serious writer recognised the song as ‘Get Together’ and it improved his mood at once. He dropped a couple of coins in the hat and realised his eye felt allright all of a sudden. He took his patch off and felt the sunlight stream into his eye ball and traverse it, all the way to his mortal soul.