Friday, January 22

5. The old man is snoring...

Rain. The smell. The sound. The feel. The air once it is gone. I love waking to the soft sound of rain on the roof, wondering if you are hearing right, leaning over to the curtains and peeking through them, falling back asleep to the sound of it's lullaby. I love the memory of my city friend, wondering aloud at what the beautiful smell was, amazement at the answer. Evenings sitting on the front verandah with my family, watching the rain fall, running in the puddles.

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