smoky air and spring showers
i cannot begin to express the euphoria that blossoms within my soul when i hear the promising rumble of thunder from an all too dark sky. light fades in and out behind dense clouds that casts the world into nostalgic sepia. everything seems to move behind amber glass and the dry earth rouses from its slumber, desperate for a drink and in its excitement releases the most delicious scent that mingles with the sweetness of the chilly atmosphere.
my senses get so heightened in the calm moments before the storm that the main attraction seems almost anti-climatic, overshadowed by the high that comes with anticipating the return of this loved one. when the wait is over, all i can do is be forced to watch it end, torn between deliriously savouring and desperately searching to prolong. i was lucky today's rain was unapologetic in its descent and length. fat from clinging to the sky all week, the raindrops were heavy silver pearls that fell from late morning to late afternoon.
as tempting as it was to nestle under the covers in such relaxing weather, i always feel a surge of motivation to jump out of bed the moment my ears pick up the first patterings of a drizzle. every rainstorm is different and i need to be awake to witness it, to breathe it in and to feel it seep into my pores, and settle in my bones. obviously the first line of action was a quick warm shower and to prepare the kettle for tea. my mother had a bag of avocados ripening on the kitchen counter, and one night in the microwave with the bananas proved the best strategy for speeding along the ripening process. i chose the softest, most perfectly ripe baby avo, poured my peppermint chai (with a shamelessly large dollop of condensed milk) and relished every single moment of my quiet morning.
the rest of the day was spent alone at home (reading week and all) mostly in my bedroom, lazing around, revising for my exams and listening to iron&wine, ciaran lavery and the paper kites to name a few. we had homemade dumplings for dinner (they were amazingggg), but my poor judgement and curiosity from watching a Michael Heneke film for class led me to watch his The Piano Teacher right before our meal and more than once i had to remind myself to chew. ick. note to self: psych thrillers have never been your thing. it will never be your thing. you know this.
i would love to do up a review of World After soon, but i have a feeling i'll only be done with it once i'm through with all of my papers. until then, i hope these rambles satisfy at least a little of your bookish-blog cravings! and if it rains wherever you are, send me a thirteen second video of it won't you?
xoxo, ali.