Some Cumulus Clouds Over the Station Seem Pretty Threatening to Me. Lets Hurry Up

I see a light at the end of the corridor

A crow screams it's dissatisfaction so loud that I close the glass window

The pressure is rising inside me: The traffic light will now turn green

I am stepping right into the blizzard. No way to look at the specifics

I smile as I see a ferry pulling away from the shore, three horns answer me

I walk quickly towards my meeting point; I am behind schedule