BLACK COFFEE

It is raining outside but the sun is still high up in the sky, golden and round. I can hear the children downstairs singing-
"It is raining,
the sun is shinning.
There is a boil on the tortoise anus".

I am in father's study. A room filled with books, quiet and grave with knowledge. There are lots of paintings on the wall, a wooden desk at a corner, a fluorescent bulb lighting the room a little. This is not where I read, this is not where I write, this is where I cry.