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From a deadly deep dark pit. Where icy winds howl and scream. Comes the desperate call of the frozen starling. Yes, in the late winter of a deadly snow.

I listen to the icy wind that howls. To children in squatter camps who cannot shelter from the cold. And in the death cry of the seagull. I also see the death of the inland lion.

In the stables where the thoroughbred horses hide shivering. Outside, the once tough donkey and the mule die in the icy wind. In the desperate call of the starling. I listen to the cries of fear of this terrible century.

I hear dirty, hungry children pouting and begging and I see their parents desperately trying to barter something for their survival. And from the deadly, deep, dark pit comes desperate crying.