The Conclusion of a Hot Summer's Day
Getting off the train after a pleasant evening with some friends to discover it's just starting to rain? Annoyed sigh.
Riding your bike home at midnight, no one on the streets but you, wearing a light linen dress (green, if you want to know), and having big drops of warm summer rain tickle your bare arms, wet your skin, make the dress cling to your back? Life. Sweet, beautiful, life. And a couple of extra moments standing in front of your door, arms spread, face turned upwards.
Making it home five minutes before thunder and lightning conquer the sky, heaven's flood gates open, and a storm strong enough that it would have blown you right off your bike bangs branches against your roof? Sheer, dumb luck.
Having a thunderstorm-induced blackout when you are just about to write in your LJ? Perfect opportunity to read The Hippopotamus by the golden light of a candle.
Opening your windows once the storm has passed to refreshed, cool night air? Time to go to bed, and knowing now you'll be able to fall asleep.
Riding your bike home at midnight, no one on the streets but you, wearing a light linen dress (green, if you want to know), and having big drops of warm summer rain tickle your bare arms, wet your skin, make the dress cling to your back? Life. Sweet, beautiful, life. And a couple of extra moments standing in front of your door, arms spread, face turned upwards.
Making it home five minutes before thunder and lightning conquer the sky, heaven's flood gates open, and a storm strong enough that it would have blown you right off your bike bangs branches against your roof? Sheer, dumb luck.
Having a thunderstorm-induced blackout when you are just about to write in your LJ? Perfect opportunity to read The Hippopotamus by the golden light of a candle.
Opening your windows once the storm has passed to refreshed, cool night air? Time to go to bed, and knowing now you'll be able to fall asleep.