0
rain clouds
Posted by poeticnook
on
6/25/2001 05:52:00 PM
in
crossroads
Rainy days are here again.. I cannot see anything from the 11th floor of this building, the fog has wiped out the streets below, and the tall buildings nearby are barely visible.. reminds me of a surreal story by Stephen King, where some prehistoric dinosaurs invaded a city while covered by a huge gray fog.. creepy!!
I didn't want to get out of bed this morning, it was pouring, and it was much comfortable to just lie down and hide behind the covers.. but then I had to go to work, so I dragged myself out of bed, dreaming of a steaming arroz caldo waiting for me. But of course there was no arroz caldo when I arrived at the office, only smug faced people, who were probably wishing that they too didn't get out of bed..
I'm wearing a sweater, and on top of it, a jacket, hoping to keep myself warm. It's so cold here that even the hot water that I got from the dispenser only 5 minutes ago is now frosting.. I keep noticing things.. little things that I never seemed to notice before..
Yesterday I was reading Old Ghosts by A.J. McKenna, a story of a man on his 76th birthday remembering his first love. I liked the last line:
"The clock in the parlour ticks and tocks and finally stops. Forever."
The story was a failed love, but then, isn't it always the sad things that people most usually write about? I hope I will find my words soon, then I can be the sculptor of stories, both imagined and experienced, of sad songs and sad poems, and everything in between. Today, my emotions are as cold as the weather, neither rejoicing nor suffering, I am floating like that leaf, drowning like the rain, forever being blown by the wind.. gently, gently.. against the softness of the clouds.
I didn't want to get out of bed this morning, it was pouring, and it was much comfortable to just lie down and hide behind the covers.. but then I had to go to work, so I dragged myself out of bed, dreaming of a steaming arroz caldo waiting for me. But of course there was no arroz caldo when I arrived at the office, only smug faced people, who were probably wishing that they too didn't get out of bed..
I'm wearing a sweater, and on top of it, a jacket, hoping to keep myself warm. It's so cold here that even the hot water that I got from the dispenser only 5 minutes ago is now frosting.. I keep noticing things.. little things that I never seemed to notice before..
Yesterday I was reading Old Ghosts by A.J. McKenna, a story of a man on his 76th birthday remembering his first love. I liked the last line:
"The clock in the parlour ticks and tocks and finally stops. Forever."
The story was a failed love, but then, isn't it always the sad things that people most usually write about? I hope I will find my words soon, then I can be the sculptor of stories, both imagined and experienced, of sad songs and sad poems, and everything in between. Today, my emotions are as cold as the weather, neither rejoicing nor suffering, I am floating like that leaf, drowning like the rain, forever being blown by the wind.. gently, gently.. against the softness of the clouds.
