The lights of the meaningless city twinkled in the distance The place where he had chosen to live was perfect, in spite of the noise of the aeroplanes which he had learnt to live with. The airport even soothed him. It reminded him of his trips abroad, which he had missed for the past six months. A small civilian plane was about to take off for a destination inside the country. Brava looked at its shadow. The little plane took off, and on a momentary impulse Brava threw the half-full can of beer at it. The can did not hit the plane. On the long way down the liquid parted from its respectable.

　　The bus stop where the friend was supposed to get off was deserted. Danny went downstairs and leaned against the bus-stop pole. In the distance a figure approached. He decided not to bawl the friend out. But it wasn’t the friend at all. It was only Shmulik, a parasite and a donkey who lived at the expense of his parents, Danny’s neighbours.

　　“Hy, Danny,” said Shmulik.

　　“Hy,” Danny grunted.

　　Shmulik coughed and went on walking.

　　“Have you got a cigarette?” Danny called after him.

　　Shmulik offered him the white pack. After Danny pulled a cigarette from it Shmulik went on walking to his parents’ place, to squeeze a few more pennies out of them.

　　Brava smoked and remembered how once ha had come late to a date with the friend. It was in the winter of that year. He had a meeting with a good chance of half a million clear profit a year, and he didn’t want to miss it. For six hours he sat in his office opposite the customers, two fifty year old brothers with a coffee import company, and negotiated with them, while telling them witty jokes to reduce the tension.

　　While he mixed them cocktails in his office and described what they were made of, he worked out that in the light of what he had in front of him here it was no big deal if the friend waiter half an hour in the rain. A calculation that proved to be quite right.