From December 2006
As the black clouds roll across the sky, like demons chasing the glittering sun, I watch the expressions of those on the street change to grotesque grimaces in abhorrence of the inconvenience that this presents to their day. They are unable to embrace the beauty that such a day brings to the world. The ability to sit inside and not feel forced to venture into the winding streets that constantly confuse.
Through sipping my coffee and trying to decipher the German-language newspaper that lies in front of me, I casually glance out the window during intervals of my misunderstanding. I notice that the street is slowing emptying under the torrents that are now pouring down. Of course there are those few individuals who brave the storm and welcome the coming downpour. It is these people whom I envy. Why are they able to dance in the rain that cleanses their souls? How are they able to forget their cares and allow their bodies to become saturated with such a gift? I want to be one of these people…no, I yearn to be one of these people. Instead, I have become one of those who run from the rain, the nuisance that the storm presents. I no longer welcome the fun associated with puddle-jumping that I did in my youth. Now, I think of the after-effects that jumping in said puddle would have on my life, such as wet clothes and shoes and having to do laundry. When all along, I should have been running straight at that puddle and diving in.
As this thought runs through my already cluttered mind, I turn my gaze back to the paper in front of me and feel a tear slide slowly down my face, dropping into the milky-black substance that fills my cup. The ripple effect takes place and seems to flow into eternity, or at least to the edge of the mug. As it collides with the yellow walls, it folds back on itself and disrupts the beautiful, perfect circle that my lone tear had created. Once again, the world makes sense in regards to outside influences ruining what is stunning.
As the black clouds roll across the sky, like demons chasing the glittering sun, I watch the expressions of those on the street change to grotesque grimaces in abhorrence of the inconvenience that this presents to their day. They are unable to embrace the beauty that such a day brings to the world. The ability to sit inside and not feel forced to venture into the winding streets that constantly confuse.
Through sipping my coffee and trying to decipher the German-language newspaper that lies in front of me, I casually glance out the window during intervals of my misunderstanding. I notice that the street is slowing emptying under the torrents that are now pouring down. Of course there are those few individuals who brave the storm and welcome the coming downpour. It is these people whom I envy. Why are they able to dance in the rain that cleanses their souls? How are they able to forget their cares and allow their bodies to become saturated with such a gift? I want to be one of these people…no, I yearn to be one of these people. Instead, I have become one of those who run from the rain, the nuisance that the storm presents. I no longer welcome the fun associated with puddle-jumping that I did in my youth. Now, I think of the after-effects that jumping in said puddle would have on my life, such as wet clothes and shoes and having to do laundry. When all along, I should have been running straight at that puddle and diving in.
As this thought runs through my already cluttered mind, I turn my gaze back to the paper in front of me and feel a tear slide slowly down my face, dropping into the milky-black substance that fills my cup. The ripple effect takes place and seems to flow into eternity, or at least to the edge of the mug. As it collides with the yellow walls, it folds back on itself and disrupts the beautiful, perfect circle that my lone tear had created. Once again, the world makes sense in regards to outside influences ruining what is stunning.
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