The sun was blood red looked like a big wound on the flank of an elephant shot by poachers. Dripped blood on white, wholly cloud which slowly turns red as the bandage of a fatally shot soldier who slowly dies of his wounds? His eyes turned into a mirror of the cold sky. In the air is torn into puffs of powder an ambulance comes to an abrupt halt, a man on the ***** floor surrounded by presents for his family, his eyes reflects the absurdity of a Yule decorated supermarket. His wife will get a voucher. As I drive home, a bag of night opens and strews its soothing darkness over the land, but nearby an anguished elephant has its tusks sawn off by a dentist.