- Ah Eliote, taj osecaj hladnog vazduha koji te siba po licu... dok hodas ulicom neslucenom brzinom od tri, mozda cak i cetiri milje na sat.
Elliot, the feeling one gets from the crisp, cold jet stream of air... rushing across one's face... as he walks down the street at speeds in excess... of two, three, or even four miles per hour.