Zelenogorskiy, Kemerovo Oblast, May 13, 2011
A fine and freezing rain streamed over the old Kronenbourg umbrella, the colours faded by multiple stays outside. Packed under this precarious shelter and unsuitable for his powerful physique, Pi struggled to maintain the embers of a wobbly barbecue where appetizing chipolatas were cooking. Indifferent to the gloomy weather that drenched his back and the back of his legs, the black giant whistled happily, jiggling to the rhythm of his melody. Without interrupting this simulated dance, he turned his sausages with a confident gesture, immediately rewarded by the characteristic sizzling of the fat consumed by embers. As soon as they were cooked through, he waved his meat tongs in the air, beyond the umbrella, which caused Gord to appear almost imm
