It is difficult to keep on writing regularly. The mind murmurs to write, but the daily chores around stop or refuse to listen. Sometimes, I feel there is nothing substantial to write, and whatever had to be said had already been said. Already been said by great souls with immense creative energies.
Today, it rained in the city I live. As I travelled from my place of work to my home, there was rain all around. It was dark, humid, thin leaves floating around, and few raindrops fell on my dry head. I allowed those little drops to remain on my dirty hair. Then, as I reached the city, rain lashed the car’s mirror, from a slanted angle, thin, but forceful. The rain did not obscure the way ahead. It seemed to cleanse the road ahead. Brownish leaves suddenly looked more clear with the greenish hue poking its head out. In the distance I saw clear clouds with an yellowish tinge. There was a strange silence all around as the rain slowly retreated as I entered the central part of the city.
It rained today evening in the city I live and it made me write a post. It made me write a post.