It is a hot May afternoon. The entire rooms feels like a furnace. The exhaust is non existent, the food being cooked is cooking up the entire house. There are calls to be taken. There are calls to be made. There are files to be prepared. A blazing sun outside the window is warming up the neighborhood. It is the urban heat Island effect at play. We desperately need more open spaces, more trees, less concrete, away from it all.
But let the afternoon pass, endure the heat somehow. Then a wind starts to blow. As the sun sets, land breeze rushes towards the setting sun. Beautiful, calming and yet runs wild through your hair. Your sole shirt hanging on the clothesline, flapping in the wind, like a blue flag that belongs to a small nation. Rippling through the crevices and crannies, the wind washes over the heat of the morning like a soothing balm on burnt skin.
The sky is overcast, overrun with clouds but will it rain ? I don’t know..I hope it does. I hit the road, walking aimlessly, where do we go? I don’t know. But not staying here is clear. We have to keep moving. It’s then when I feel a drop of water on my face. And another one but it is fleeting. It is not the grand arrival of the monsoons. It’s just the water cycle at play.
I continue to wait. For the rains and so that I can escape.