Outside it is still cold but the signs of spring are not to be overlooked. The trees are bare, the sky is grey and rainy and our neighbourhood resembles a construction site. Everywhere streets are ripped open, rubble, humps of soil, heavy construction machines and closed sidewalks. I know that in one or two years it will be splendid but right now and for more than one year everything is grey, dirty and loud around our place.

We are going for a walk. In the middle of this greyness he is. The man, who makes the most wonderful soap bubbles. He has several sticks between which various ropes span. He douses them into his special mix and then he runs and lets the countless colourful soup bubbles fly to the sky. He does this until his special soap mix is used up.

Countless soap bubbles rising, bumping against each other and bursting entertain many passing children and adults. The children run after them and squeak with joy.

The grey cold day turns into a cheery bright time. And all that thanks to a man who lets countless soap bubbles dance through the air.