It was a sunny day. No one expected a storm, so I was the only one with
an umbrella. I was walking down the street hoping for something.
I think it was rain.
I stopped abruptly, when it suddenly started, listening to the quiet
whispering of the raindrops, their last will, as they were hitting the pavement.
People were running, trying not to get wet, while I simply stood there
with umbrella in my hand.
Other view
A man was standing on the street. Raindrops were hitting him with
desperation but it seemed like he did not care. I think that was why I decided
to talk to him. It was the first time I have seen a person being so detached,
so far away from reality. I noticed that he had a black umbrella in his hand,
yet he did not open it… It seemed as if in his world it was always sunny.
Back
I was completely wet and felt my blood boiling with emotions. It felt so
good -- my escape from reality, reality where rain didn’t bother me. People
were staring at me, there was a woman on the opposite end of the street; she
was completely wet and did not seem to care. Funny, it feelt as if I was
looking into a mirror.
Other view
I slowly approached him. My breath was escaping in small clouds, eager
to join the rain, wanting to be a part of it… I started to feel different: the
raindrops seemed gentle now, like mother's hand and with each touch they were
taking away my fears and worries. People around could not understand me, they
were too busy running away from their own reflections, their own lives. Rain
was revealing ones inside and he was the only one, who was not afraid.
Back
She was much closer now and I could see her expression. Drops were
streaming down her cheeks, illuminating her eyes and chasing away the dark
shadows from her face. I could see her very clearly, as if the air became transparent.
I was surprised by the look of complete tranquility. She was becoming one with the
rain. She was crushing against the road but next second was put together by a
new wave of drops falling from the sky. It was natural to think that you could meet
her only during heavy rain: she seemed too fragile for the penetrating rays of
the merciless sun.
Other view
It felt as if he could not see me, maybe he was looking at someone else
in his quiet world of illusions… We were completely alone; those minutes are
rare, so we just looked at each other, understanding the significance of this liquid
moment. He had the deepest grey eyes I have seen… It was ironic… If his world
was always full of sunlight, mine was full of rain and yet, his eyes reminded
you of autumn, of storms, of nostalgia… Mine were almost yellow. Now they probably
looked like the lost sparks of sunlight, fighting for their lives in a prison
of gray water…
This was it. We looked into each other’s eyes for a few motets, which
felt like lives, and passed each other, not saying a word. We evaporated into
our souls, confused and perplexed with the present, with our common and incomprehensible
reality…
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