And suddenly there's rain again, in every way different to this mornings rain: Here within the wink of an eye. Strong. Dense. Huge drops to hit leaves and stones and roofs, leaving a all-perpetrating noise, some sort of concerto. Face in wind hands in water and slowly feeling the heat washed down, at least a bit. In between parts of the day, fast-paced slow-minded.
The rain the evening the signals and the noise.
A lot later. Rewound some stories, added new branches and left a few marks on mental and actual logs. Pondering layers of metaphors and the random changes of weather that feels like rewinding seasons as well. A scent of wood and soil. A scent of matches and incenses. A dance of shadows. A foreboding of dreams. At least some of them soft ones hopefully. Contemplating. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.
4pm and on. Tram and rain and a few pedestrians hiding under summer-coloured umbrellas. Finding space in between bicycles and yawning afternoon commuters, trying to retreat to somewhere and just remain unseen. Little success. Meadows, bridges, crossroads, and the river. The world passing by reduced to a sequence of blurred views. The sleepiness of eyelids.
(Waiting rooms be like: Used books. Magazines covering lifestyle, gossip, cars. Wet clothes, cautious distance. Listening to the mornings unexpected rain getting even stronger. And to birds celebrating the new day, out in the green. Slow motion, impatient. Once again trying to keep ones mind slightly busy to avoid it from breaking out of control too much.)
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