No doubt it doesn't move them. No comments on the everlasting dreary evidence as they enter the city. Back from the beach they carry sunshades on their burned shoulders. The crowd leaves the train-station, walks on the wet ground and makes it way to the first line of buildings and cranes, amidst smoking garbage tanks and waste. The sound of their steps gets diluted in the familiar surroundings. The rare words they exchange break the roaring silence "it has been raining here".