26

Good morning, June thirteen. I went outside to find some quiet place to breath, and I was successful about it. It was then that I have seen a light between the clouds like apple cracks and bittersweet glare coming from the sun. I knew that it was just lurking around, and I knew that it just hid in there. But when I took a walk to check the greens in the garden, I felt the wind and it brought me somewhere in the past. I glanced up again and tasted a raindrop and it tasted nothing, but I liked how it felt in my tongue. I remembered the first time I tasted rain when I was little. I used to play a lot in the garden to form some clay balls for fun. I didn’t know what it was for but I loved it. It was a Sunday, but it was the first time I tasted rain. It tasted nothing, but I knew that I opened my little mouth to gather some and I was happy about it. It was the same month of the year, the month that there was something which could feel like rain. Sometimes I wonder how it feels like to be a raindrop, to be in the place of a thing which others sometimes can’t feel.