Last minutes before the rain
It's not raining yet, but it's going to. Perfect condition for writing. It has been like this for many years, I always write when it's raining outside.
Dark clouds, thunder and lightnings. The cat is a bit scared. And the sun is appearing and disappearing every 5 minutes.
I will sit on the windowsill with a cup of coffee and a laptop on my laps. An idea will fall with the rain, my task will only be to put it into the computer memory. Artificial intelligence used to help to catch thoughts.
Somewhere far away there's the light of my existence. I wonder what he sees now above himself. And, maybe, he is in the sky at the moment? Who knows...
It's the kind of thought that always finds reflection on my face. An unconscious smile appears. Do you remember - "feverish sweet delirium"?
I'm writing. Thoughts are flying around, it's not too hard to catch them at the moment. The only problem is that my hands are not as fast as weightless thoughts carried around all possible space by some strange forces and energy.
... another idea creeps into my mind: if he read this, what would he say?
The next pic will definitely be seen. It will also have a special meaning. Will he understand? Or, maybe, he will, but won't say a word to me?
"A frog also has a heart, a green one, but it's own..." (c)
Catching raindrops, put my feet out of the window... I sometimes do such stupid things.
... There's some strange feeling. As if this has already happened to me...
Dark clouds, thunder and lightnings. The cat is a bit scared. And the sun is appearing and disappearing every 5 minutes.
I will sit on the windowsill with a cup of coffee and a laptop on my laps. An idea will fall with the rain, my task will only be to put it into the computer memory. Artificial intelligence used to help to catch thoughts.
Somewhere far away there's the light of my existence. I wonder what he sees now above himself. And, maybe, he is in the sky at the moment? Who knows...
It's the kind of thought that always finds reflection on my face. An unconscious smile appears. Do you remember - "feverish sweet delirium"?
I'm writing. Thoughts are flying around, it's not too hard to catch them at the moment. The only problem is that my hands are not as fast as weightless thoughts carried around all possible space by some strange forces and energy.
... another idea creeps into my mind: if he read this, what would he say?
The next pic will definitely be seen. It will also have a special meaning. Will he understand? Or, maybe, he will, but won't say a word to me?
"A frog also has a heart, a green one, but it's own..." (c)
Catching raindrops, put my feet out of the window... I sometimes do such stupid things.
... There's some strange feeling. As if this has already happened to me...