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Once upon a time in Antarctic lived a penguin called Martin. Martin always wanted to fly, but he was just a penguin, so life didn't bring him that ability. He was a very depressed bird, he had no friends, always was sad and quiet, tried not to contact with other birds.
It was a long winter night, when Martin had a dream: he was in Africa, sitting on the head of giraffe, it seemed like he was flying above the endless steppe, completely happy. Martin suddenly woke up because of rough noise from outside. 'What's this?'- asked him to his neighbor. But he didn't heard the response because big arms in red gloves took them both and made them an injection of soporific.
He didn't know what time had gone, but when he woke up he understood that he isn't in Antarctic and he isn't in Africa: he was somewhere in a cage and behind the cage there was a crowd of children. Suddenly Martin realized, that his dreams will never come true. He came to the edge of artificial icy slope and jumped down. It was his final jump.
Goodbye, penguin-dreamer Martin.