Pluviophile

On the outside looking in, the calmness is deceiving. Looking closely you can see the waves of water collecting mid-air as the wind gusts to the South East. Innocent students walk by, their umbrellas ultimately meeting its demise. Effortlessly contorted inside out as if the ghosts of the University’s past is playing tricks on the current appropriated inhabitants.  Unconfined hair angled in whichever direction the wind is dictating, sticking to students’ cheeks without much of their control. Some brave the weather without even a hood, scurrying from building to building hoping to not get soaked in these conditions. Others allow the walls of water to rain down on them, undeterred. The droplets zoom by, as if bullets waiting to pierce right through skin. Mother nature is fighting back with all she has for neglecting her all this time. We’ve mindlessly allowed poison to touch her precious skin. This is her roaring voice telling us she’s not happy with what we’ve done, take heed to what she is saying because Mother doesn’t seem happy.

Fortunately I am safe for now. Cowardly protected behind walls of glass, simply choosing to observe and do nothing else.

The saltiness of my skin intertwined with the dripping coming from the roots of my hair. Traveling down my forehead, getting caught in the furrow of my brow, speeding its way down the curve of my left nostril, the mixture finally reached the fuzz of my upper lip where it will begin to collect like dew until I pay it attention with a nonchalant swipe of the back of my hand to rid myself of sweaty evidence.

Three small Asian girls huddled under one umbrella, holding on to its perimeter to make sure it doesn’t flop and expose them. Their radiant pink rain boots reflected on the wet pavement; as if a shadow in the light, they scurry to find protection of a nearby building.

I gain this certain empowerment when it rains. This creative energy surges through my veins, winding its way trough the tips of my appendages and straight up into my brain like a drug. Perhaps it’s a “creative adrenaline rush” or maybe I’m just a pluviophile.

 

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