A taste of rain

© Lou Camino / Hans Lucas

Was it raining? She wasn’t able to remember when she started to walk with her umbrella open like that. Her thoughts had taken her so very far from reality, from daily life. She was in another space already, in a world where every piece of imagination was brought to life, in a colourful space where everything is different but everything is the same.

Time stopped.

She was still walking, her grip on the umbrella like a reminder of this reality, like the last link between the two worlds she was inhabiting. Here and not here at the same time. The drops falling from the sky had their own colour, their own sound, each time they hit the magical shelter, like a note from a bigger musical score, everything in the right place. The music of life was happening, and she was the only witness of this essential symphony. Her heart was jumping with delight at each new drop-drum, at each combination, at each rhythm.

Closing her eyes with delectation, she had lost the notion of up and down. Only sound was guiding her through this world of spaciousness, filled with colourful drops composing the most delightful music. The echo on the canvas was amplifying the effects on her body, as if she was flying on the sound, completely encompassed by the melody. Like walking on a bridge between here and there, a human receptacle full of intensity, perceiver of greatness, witness of a miracle. The last drop had the perfume of red lilac, and the taste of a ray of light on a cold afternoon.

Her two feet in a puddle, she decided to never close her umbrella again, as a secret prayer for life’s music to continue to flourish in her heart.

Thanks to The Ongoing Wow for the awesome proof reading work.

Like what you read? Give Sarra Plume a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.