The garbage collector on the back of the truck before dawn drops down while the truck is still moving, heaves another can off the pavement. The sack bursts; things spill onto the street. He will leave it; the truck has already moved on. He spots a small zebra, a toy, covered by a banana peel (he’s almost missed it). He swoops it into his pocket, wet and slimy. That night he remembers it and draws it- not a good drawing, that first one. A year of drawings later, the little zebra is magnificent, especially to the garbage collector.