from The Restaurant at the End of the Universe by Douglas Adams ...and his eyes, though open, seemed closed. The rain pelted and danced on the corrugated iron roof of the small shack that stood in the middle of this patch of scrubby land. The noise of the rain on the roof of the shack was deafening within, but went largely unnoticed by its occupant, whose attention was otherwise engaged. He was a tall shambling man with rough straw-coloured hair that was damp from the leaking roof. His clothes were shabby, his back was hunched, and his eyes, though open, seemed closed. In his shack was an old beaten-up armchair, an old scratched table, an old mattress, some cushions and a stove that was small but warm. He stood up and found a glass that was lying on the floor by the mattress. He poured in a measure from his whisky bottle. He sat again. “Perhaps some other people are coming to see me,” he said. The door opened. “Hello?” said the man. “Ah, exc...