when the sky crackles, splits and roars with the obvious threat and the wind blows dead leaves onward to join the uproar. and the sun is pushed into oblivion and the world gets a sinister color to it. when you are wondering how much longer will that last bit of bright sky manage to fight through, you see that unexpected rain makes people run. run, was what that fat girl/woman was doing even though it looked like blobs of flesh bouncing up and down. and that cyclist raced through like he was being chased. suddenly everyone is hurrying all around, while i smile in response to a 'dude, ready for the rain?' somewhere close to me. rain makes me feel young sometimes...

was it ordained that I'd come here and by a fluky last-min-reshuffle of assignment, be put with you. and then would begin another journey in this world of probabilistic-matching encounters and following relationships, some without names. enabled with words or the unnecessarity of them, we would learn each other and continue to do so (for how long?) while I refuse to let go of you and you allow me my stubbornness.

some odd meters down the corridor you coexist and sometimes I wish you into appearing right in front of me in that very space that is a metaphor of our guarantee that this will not grow into anything disrupting to either's life.