The wind was blowing hard, hitting the buildings with anger, howling like a ghost, whispering madness, sinisterly, to whoever paid attention.
There they were, in the space under the roof of an old building; a cat and her newborn kittens who were happily being fed not caring about the world, only caring about their hunger. Four kittens. Two white, two orange… they looked like rats.
His first memory was his mother, her warm smell to safety, her gentle touch while cleaning him, and the vibration of her purrs. She was loving him, and he liked it. He felt her love and he loved her back. His first memory was his mother and the silent love in the absolute darkness, where his own heartbeats were the music of the world.
Seven days later a window was opened and a chaotic storm of sounds hit him,
