ripples

it has rained over the whole May Sunday. I'm too tired to let the lack of comprehension of what's going on disturb me in any way. I watch it all, stimulating myself at the minimal level, only not to miss the very last moment when the end of the thread slips away, the doors close, the train leaves, the wind builds the emptiness. gone. once back, we'll celebrate. with the grapes, wine and touch. I'll be waiting right here.