Millions of drops of rain hugging the ground.|
Should she put one more on the surface of her face?
Should she follow the red and blue umbrella of the young lady dancing beside her begging for a shelter of solitude?
Little peppermint in her coffee. Deciding to sit instead of riding the everyday routine. Druggers passing and asking for more, adding little more misery to her taste.
Should she just cry looking at their grey sky ?
What a graphic figure looking at a raped sun in each umbrella passing. Trees wet and graffities broken contain the heart of a killer’s sorry. Craziness pleasure, strolling a malboro in her two fingers, plunging into the libraries for the enigma of the magic words.
She could betray all of the world’s raining pleasure just for a wet kiss of two men in the forest. That would earn a more abstract satisfaction. The one of her raining’s pouring theory, to follow a closed umbrella of a child’s little hand.
Should she take a taxi or wander a little more?
Serene raining pleasure of her father’s hug....