The loud and sharp noises are coming from a brown chicken that is running around and around the fading green grass, exploring, frankly, for some food. The noises beat into the front room of the grey, happy, cabin without politeness. There is a light that is forcing itself into the front room from the corner window. It is bringing some light into the darkness. There is so much dust that is gathered on the windows edges like restless children, as if it is some form of modern art. Four men nonchalantly sit around a battered brown table with raw intensions and steal thoughts. While sleep leaves their eyes, and their thoughts and bits of dreams still stroll in their memories. While their minds are still partially ruled by last night's whiskey. A certain amount of boredom plagues the place like discovering the start of the universe.