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Rainstorm doesn't stop for the third day in a row and you would not stop complaining about it even it would be gone. Small jokes, that this rain is trying to wash off your sins, but apparently you have them too many that's why it is raining so much, are not comic anymore. Overall situation is so sad that it is even funny. With a marble face staring at you. Asking what have you done wrong? Asking what would you do?

My shelter has no holes for water to leak, no gaps for spiders to invade, no... I've sorted out many things and many things still left to sort out. I see things moving and searching for their places. I just levitate. I just flow with the rain, downhill, to the sea, to the tips of grassy hills and then down again. I do not care and I care too much. I waste my time and I plan my schedule thoroughly. I sit there nostalgic and suffering and I sit here melancholic and joyful. 

Rainstorm mixes all four winds and confuses them too much. If I could I would hug them all together and read them a fairy tale about how the winds have chosen their paths, about how the seasons have divided their territory. I would stroke their light and soft hair. And now I am just pouring down on my own shoulders with a marble face, with some confidence and confusion. Very strong in my very own shelter. Very calm.

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