This book was written in a time when we did things differently.
Everybody had a new story. We lived in fairy tales, our streets had their own stories and families learnt to understand each other better. When you can't go to faraway places, you look around our own streets. Most of these stories seems to have the same backdrop. A city with rain, noises from the background and dark silhouettes behind the curtains. Streets with people and stories. In a dream.
The colours, the tastes, the sounds, and the views of nature got new meaning, new reflections, and new adventures started with no finishing line in view.
Kata's processing of one language into another gives the stories a kind of stillness, it's melancholy seems to come from a European heart.
