Lightning strikes, lighting up the dark night sky. The rumble of thunder follows suit, breaking the silence of the night. A scene of unspoken beauty lies before me. A girl screams, unprepared for the clash of thunder. A mother shouts. I’m in my room, protected from the stormy night, yet every part of me wanted to be in that rain. Raindrops splatter on the roof, almost melodious. If we allow ourselves to listen properly, with our hearts, we can hear a whole orchestra playing on the night of every storm. I’m all alone, as I was before the storm, and which is how I will be long after the storm has calmed. The neighbour’s door slams shut, the sound of a car alarm goes off, spoiling the music of the night. The alarm continues ringing in my ear, loud and unfading.
The storm lasts for eternity, yet to me it ended only too soon. I let myself be washed away by the rain. I drown in the raindrops, I’m blown away by the harsh winds. The storm ends. I remain silent. Part of me has left together with the storm. Just like the storm, my presence is impermanent. I rage for an hour and I get an hour’s attention and then I am gone. No longer seen, no longer heard and no longer noticed.
dani