Rain (ii)

The rain pours and I watch it run down the skylight in my office, down the glass panels of the window pane, hitting the cement surface of the walls and floors. On this grey, quiet Thursday morning, I can’t help but watch the rainfall from my office window. And I wonder if this rain has its own story, its own secrets and lies. I wonder if someone has already unfolded the mystery of the rain. But even if there is no mystery, I will tell its story. I will tell my own version of this story.
But not today. Today I`m just a watcher, one who`s tired of waiting. I`m not in the mood to dance to the rhythm of the rain.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *