Summer Rain

It's raining outside my window. A distant ring of thunder just cracked across the sky. Everything is being cleaned off tonight, like most nights in summer. It's telling me to forget...

Somewhere in the distance, the gods take a flash photo of the city. Every crevice is lit, every detail is preserved in the moment. For us humans, the moment freezes on our retinas for a brief moment.

Then it's gone.

Let us cover our faces, hide ourselves in shawls and cloaks... Keep ourselves from getting wet, from touching the water of the Lethe. Some people hide from it, but others stomp in the puddles and let their hair get wet. Kids, mostly. But they don't have as much to lose.

This is what night is. It covers all, and everyone has a place to hide. The night is so quiet, and I can see myself clearly, without a crowd and without all the networks that bind me in the day.

I'm such a hypocrite. I love the night and its solitude; I love the strength I've gained, but I'm still crippled with this dependence on the day.

I want to be left alone, yet I surround myself with people, friends, annoyances, all types.

I really understood the main character in Up in the Air, I guess.

Nights and rain lend themselves to such thoughts, I suppose.