December Rain
It stopped three days ago. The rain I mean. Chaos was imminent, in the midst of endless rain. Water level rose, connections were cut off, river unable to contain the torrents anymore. It was my favorite moment. To hear nothing but the noise from the roof, from the trickling drips of water on the ground. It was as if listening to the end of transmission on the TV. The white noise, some may call it. The sound that calming, that brings you to sleep.
The rainy season is the only season when you can feel a little bit cold on your feet. The days and nights under the warmth of blanket. Or the longest nights with the one you love on the bed. It is when parts of your childhood memoirs come to surface aside of your night lullaby. It is when you look at people who are a little unfortunate and you start to have a moment of reflection, of how lucky you are, of being able to live in a house filled with ample comfort. It is when you ride your car, and see the people who have to ride their motorbikes to go to work, to commute, to fetch their kids from school - under the striking yellow raincoats.
The rain starts again. The second wave, some might say.
Perhaps, this is the perfect moment when your subtle and fragile heart will be touched by the view of how magnificent this enormous gift Allah has given. Stop thinking about the natural commotion it brings. The flood, the landslide, the losses of living sources. This perhaps will sound a little cliche to you, but in every hardship, there's a reward in the end.
ZA
The rainy season is the only season when you can feel a little bit cold on your feet. The days and nights under the warmth of blanket. Or the longest nights with the one you love on the bed. It is when parts of your childhood memoirs come to surface aside of your night lullaby. It is when you look at people who are a little unfortunate and you start to have a moment of reflection, of how lucky you are, of being able to live in a house filled with ample comfort. It is when you ride your car, and see the people who have to ride their motorbikes to go to work, to commute, to fetch their kids from school - under the striking yellow raincoats.
The rain starts again. The second wave, some might say.
Perhaps, this is the perfect moment when your subtle and fragile heart will be touched by the view of how magnificent this enormous gift Allah has given. Stop thinking about the natural commotion it brings. The flood, the landslide, the losses of living sources. This perhaps will sound a little cliche to you, but in every hardship, there's a reward in the end.
ZA
