The soft sound of the falling rain twitches my ears as I lie peacefully on the dry cement, staring into the browness of the wooden house above me. Surrounded by pillars, and amongst boxes, shelves, stacks of scrapped magazines, books and paper, I lie. Completely still. It is remarkable how the pain of my guts completely dissapears under the only effect of the sound of rain. The feel of water gushing past me, through the garden and plummetting into the river. The clouds in the grey-white sky, appear in pieces up above the towering plants.
It's all so linear, yet all muddled up. It's peaceful, but at the same time full of life.
And I am here in the middle of it all.
Waiting for some dear creature to pull me out of my sea of nostalgia.
