Today I was in a storm, of those that when you erase the drops from your face, you think you are erasing your skin because you no longer distinguish between the rain and you.

It’s of those that you laugh because the poodle floods your shoes, and you are grateful that you wore socks and not powder, even though it’s summer and the temperature is higher than you on tiptoe. And it’s of the days that the day is dark, but the clouds turn purple every ten, five, one, second. 

It’s of the days that there are more cars than people and fewer cars than traffic lights, of the days, that our mothers tell us: “Put the kettle on, turn the TV on, cuddle your cat and let the day pass, so you are safe and sound” It’s of the days that door must collect dust. 

But, today I was under the rain passing my wet jacket through my eyes that couldn’t distinguish the sidewalk from the street, I felt like a car without windshields. I felt tired when I had just walked a block because the wind was cutting into the nerves and the drops were tears I never wanted. 

Nevertheless, the weirdness in all was that I felt good, I felt light-footed and with ever-changing music in my mind. I thought about kisses in the rain, umbrellas against the wind, hidden tears in these riots, in hurried steps and jumping into puddles. I felt that I was under the tempest of the world, that nature was screaming: “I EXIST, I STILL EXIST, DON'T FORGET ME” And I listened. I listened to the howling, the pain, the joy, and the courage, I listened to the moisture that clung to my body and welcomed me and begged for salvation. 

I felt it in the wind that was the caress that I could never describe beyond company, in the leaves that decorated my hair as if they called me from its roots. I felt that when I was in the midst of the storm I did not look for romance because she was pain.

TA.