It’s Never Much When I Sing About You

Taken with my iTouch  // 17|7|12

Rainy season is here. Every morning I wake up to wet grey cement, and every morning I squint at the puddles to see if they are still or if they ripple - nothing could make me feel more cheated than to have missed being conscious and content in a downpour. It's an empty feeling... like the rain was a friend who visited and left while I was sleeping and left nothing more than the cool air and the puddles on the ground.

This morning... the wind called to me, rattling my windowpanes, and the rain whispered to wake me in hush distant tones, shush-shush-shushing through the trees and drumming onto the light grey cement that steadily darkened.

And I clambered out of bed, a sleepy smile on my face and dust in my eyes, and stretched out eager fingers to unroll the blinds.