Way home

Its dark, warm. Not raining anymore. No battery on my music anymore. Store the player on my pocket, sigh.

I raise my eyes and find me walking on a well known lonely sidewalk. Smirk. The artificial yellow of the street lamps reaches to touch my face. Dodges almost every tree leaf on its way. Succeeds

No, weather’s not warm, ‘s not cold… ‘s more like perfect.

Stop… Breathe.

The smell of fresh poured rain fills the night air with it’s thickness. I walk again, the music of the neighborhood escorting the beat of my steps. Two singing crickets along an out-of-tune cicada, an elusive squirrel that doesn’t care of sleeping schedules plays her own samples with the bark of that old oak. A wooden door. Swings. Creaking as the night breeze plays with its old hinges. Keep walking, don’t care about the mud beneath my feet.

The wind´s also still awake and makes sure I know it by shaking the last rain drops off the leaves of the trees I’m walking under. Door closes. Lights on. Keep walking.

Walking by the local public orchard. Spices filling the air with their playful, tasty aromas. Freshly squeezed by the recent rain spearmint, rosemary and maybe some basil. It all makes me think of  you. Makes me wonder what expression you´d pull out of your collection as you enjoyed this tiny moment. It makes me smile. Thinking about your thousand faces makes me smile. Your smiling big brown eyes…

…No more battery on my music. All’s good. Life makes me smile.

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