The gray, immense and unmistakably Central European sky.. air slightly perfumed with petrol and boiled potatoes.

I sell blue sky and coloured air.

There is a lull to the very air of the place, the creaking of the tall teak forests, the lapping of the canals, the gentle swaying of the little kingfishers who sit like neat blue idols on almost every telegraph wire.

In age of consumerism and materialism, I traffic in blue sky and colored air.

It really boiled down to Phil.

Guns never settle anything, I said. They are just a fast curtain to a bad second act