A drop really wanted to have a name.
She was an average water substance like millions of other nameless drops.
Nobody ever wondered where drops come from and where they go. Just to be was
enough. But the curious drop wanted to be different, and so she shaped herself
in many ways. She reflected the sun, or a carved leaf of weed, or a coloured
fishtail, and it seemed to her that she was absolutely different from other
drops. The drop lived in the sea, sometimes she soared up into the sky, hovered
there within a cloud, and then rushed homeward in the rain.
