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?
An exterior architect is asked by a builder to plant seven trees in a manner that there are exactly six rows of trees in a straight line and each row has three trees in particular.
