The rain song.

 

Heavy raining, thunderstorms, lightning, spooky winds… are privileges you’d never think to find here in Seville. They’re surreal phenomena I only read about in books.

It’s the description of a perfect autumn, for me.

 

Coming home to this gorgeously grey day was wonderful. On I walk (totally unprepared for this scenario), trying to keep my steps dainty to avoid puddles inside my summer shoes. Socks soaking.

My hair twists and coils around my eyes, escaping the blue hood I smile under.

 

Slosh, slosh, go the pipes.

HONK, HONK, yell the cars.

Hooooot, Hooooooot, whispers the wind.

Tippity tippity tip tip, gather the thoughts in my head, as the water does in puddles.

 

This almost sounds like a poem, doesn’t it?

 
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