At the start of the walk the fly danced around a pugilist nose in clear geography of a gray sky with no rain, only a promise.
It seems raining in the other sky. Will the clouds turn rain like flies? In the sky is a swarm of doubts that will soon turn flies, flies buzzing around a walking nose.
But now the sky is the other sky.And as I reach the end of the walk the nose is fighting rain like flies.