Florian
It stood to reason that, in order to find the Rain, one must first take oneself outside.
Florian tried this.
It was not a simple matter.
‘Do you know how I can get outside?’ he said to the first person he saw, a large red-haired woman with (inexplicably) ram’s horns atop her head. She was seated at the sole table in a large, red-painted room, partaking of the contents of a silver-covered dish which smelled of fish and lemons.
She honoured Florian with an arrogant stare and pointed at the same door through which Florian had just stepped. ‘That way,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ said Florian gravely.
The woman returned to her dinner, and Florian to the door.
He asked the same question of the next person he saw, a small man in a striped blueberry-coloured coat whose hat was almost t
