Лунцикуй молотый

Today is rainy day walking - every person with their head down and moving at maxi-mum speed. Those with umbrellas take wider berths of one another, the rest take care to duck when the spokes come their way. The sound of feet on wet paving stone is almost lost against the splashing of the traffic, only the click of high heels still clear. The usual smell of the fumes is dampened by the hazy drops and every face is on the blank-stressed spectrum - at 7:30 am it's al-ways the same.