Peter wakes up daily to pick up his cycle and crosses the border between Spain and France daily with a bag on his shoulder. He is investigated daily by the officials but they don't find anything suspicious.
If we tell you that he is smuggling something what would it be?
I am the black child of a white father, a wingless bird, flying even to the clouds of heaven. I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me, even though there is no cause for grief, and at once on my birth, I am dissolved into air. What am I?
