Storm

It had been a long time since I last took a walk in the rain. I had almost forgotten how good it feels. Tonight I did it again. I cannot really explain why, but I love rain falling down on my face, on my hair, on my hands. Above all, I love the sight, a sky that is neither grey nor blue, a blurred vision because of the falling drops, car lights making rain shine, even trees seem to revive and become greener. And the smell of wet earth, it makes me aware of life itself, of the wonder of our senses. The cold wind moving my hair as it pleases, at times so soflty, at times so violently, that's a selfish pleasure.

In the beginning I remembered those last times. One with Blackeyed, and one because of Blackeyed. The former was great, drops of rain entangled on his eyelashes, and we both laughing and kicking puddles. The latter was sad because I walked in pain --no more to say--

In the end I could only wish somebody (whose name I will not mention) were there with me. I was dying to know what rain makes him feel, what rain evokes to him. I wished I could share that moment with him. I don't understand what happens with me, maybe it is pure infatuation... Yes, it has to be simply that.

**A great fact: I was carrying my Larkin book, and I managed to keep it safe from the rain. It's intact!!!

**A weird fact: People must think I'm mad. They seemed scared of looking at a black-haired woman walking in the rain. What they don't know is that they are the weird ones for me.