"My favourite slippers are wet and muddy," grumbles a voice. "Shh! Never mind. Look down carefully. Your tiny seed has finally woken up," soothes another. A tale unfolds... The canvas above has a finished look. Darkness has filled in the gaps. The house turns silent. My eyes gaze outside, though the window mesh, trying to make sense of the blackened mosaic overhead, silent, except for occasional sounds from an almost 'pet-like' frog. Outside, the hot sand, cries, silently, for a long withheld lifeline. My eyes close and images - those bottles of hope - float, gently past, in my dream. Hours slip past... Sudden drum beats of thunder, humming the tune, 'gonna love taking the centre stage...' make tired eyebrows move. My eyes open. Softly descending raindrops, call out to darkness... 'am here to give you company.' Thunder agrees. Lightning follows suit. As dawn enters, the aroma of wet s...