The spring sun shone through the thin curtains, lighting up a stream of sunbeams in the dusty air as it speared a path to the small bed in the corner of the room. Somewhere underneath the tangled heap of sheets, blankets, pillows, toys and books that were in the sun’s spotlight was a small boy who was dreaming of the adventures that small boys have while they sleep and which they carry with them in their heads and sometimes even live out during the day. Out of the top of the bed there emerged a head of tousled hair, followed by a stick thin ivory arm. The bedding, toys and books crashed to the floor as the little boy stretched his back and arms. He pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes as if to switch them on, and then, with the back of his left hand, he rubbed the itches out of his nose. He cautiously opened his left eye, taking care to look away from the red spot before it turned yellow. His right eye followed its neighbour’s example. Both eyes then blinked as they accustomed themselves to the light and as his hands scratched his unkempt hair. He yawned broadly and noisily, swallowing those sunbeams that had ventured too close to his face. He looked down his nose at the beams that had been spared and thought to himself that it was going to be a good day: he had taken on the sun’s energy. Now all he needed to do was throw yesterday’s clothes on, have a pee, grab a lump of bread, butter and jam and a glass of milk and then run out through the front door and out the gate into the big world beyond. Today was a day for adventures and there was no time to lose.