"It was too late to have breakfast. I just took a sip of water to get the burning taste out of my mouth.... The water was cold and I remembered how the morning before when it was time for the wedding it had rained hard and I thought maybe that afternoon when I went to the park like usual there'd still be a puddle in one of the paths... and in every puddle, no matter how small, the sky... a sky shattered from time to time by a bird... a bird who was thirsty and without realising it shattered the sky in the water with his beak... or a bunch of chattering birds who'd fly down from the leaves like lightning bolts and dive into the puddle and swim around with their feathers all ruffled and mix up the sky with mud and beaks and wings. Happy..."
The Time of the Doves, Mercè Rodoreda [traducció de David Rosenthal]