It is a quiet morning in August. It is not cool but cooler than yesterday. It is a calm morning that began with the tears which I can't stop at certain moments.
I wonder at the weather. Perhaps God has listened to the prayers of all us suffocating in the heat, melting in the drops of the endless sweat that are racing each other on human skin.
It is a beautiful morning. No it is pleasant. It is pleasant and as usual you are still here as you have been at times, hesitating, aloof, a step or two behind.
You with everything that you are which I have no energy to think of and to list.
I can imagine the look on your face if you see me now. I look like I have not seen the sun for a while. Even though its summer I have been avoiding her. At these times, her anger parallels mine; it's just too much.
I can see the look you will give me when you see me now sunless and I will remember the toasts you gave to someone else's halo when mine had been put out.
I remember the moment I realized that it was not something you kept up your sleeve just for me. It really hurt.
I can see the look on your face if you could see me now sitting on a couch of flowers. Maybe you will grimace and maybe you won't. But in both cases you will ask where has she gone? And you won't notice that it's me sitting on that large petal.
It's a pleasant morning. That has gone off to become a noon and is getting closer to the time after that noon. The weather has broken its fierceness today. This leaves me with the hopes of a less angry sun so I can finally sit beneath her.
My halo needs to be recharged. It runs on solar energy but it has been too hot to be in her company.
Even the flowers are hiding in the shade.