I love the rain. Where I grew up we periodically get rain. During this time I would shower in the rain, walk in the rain, or sometimes just tuck-in bed listening to the raindrops tapping on the roof. I love the sound the rain makes when it hits something solid and the cold air that it brings.
My aunt would not let me walk in the rain, she always thinks that we can catch all sort of diseases from the rain. Coincidently, some kids that did walk in the rain get fever the next day, but that’s the only thing they caught as far as I can remember - a fever. And every time my aunt talks me out of it I always think – well, it’s supposed to be clean because it’s from the sky, right? So how come some mother’s don’t let their kids play in the rain? Why some of us believe on something we have not witnessed? How come often people can’t agree on something so easily understood?
During the time when the questions are important to me, I would close my eyes and allow the rhythm of the raindrops take my mind to places where I can explore the questions further. I would tilt my head upward to catch some of the water that goes with the cold air, somehow the sensation fuels me to dig deeper. I would often get lost in this journey.
As the elements around me absorb my being, my questions were splits into words and then by syllables, making them hard to recognise. And when I open my eyes they are hit by the electromagnetic waves which everyone agreed to call ‘light’ and the different colours that go with it. The ‘acoustics’ in the air, which we call ‘sound’, relentlessly goes through my ears which my essence tries to decipher their meanings. What I call blue and loud maybe perceived by others as different colour and sound. We may agree on a name, shape or sound but really the perception of it is personal.
My aunt would not let me walk in the rain, she always thinks that we can catch all sort of diseases from the rain. Coincidently, some kids that did walk in the rain get fever the next day, but that’s the only thing they caught as far as I can remember - a fever. And every time my aunt talks me out of it I always think – well, it’s supposed to be clean because it’s from the sky, right? So how come some mother’s don’t let their kids play in the rain? Why some of us believe on something we have not witnessed? How come often people can’t agree on something so easily understood?
During the time when the questions are important to me, I would close my eyes and allow the rhythm of the raindrops take my mind to places where I can explore the questions further. I would tilt my head upward to catch some of the water that goes with the cold air, somehow the sensation fuels me to dig deeper. I would often get lost in this journey.
As the elements around me absorb my being, my questions were splits into words and then by syllables, making them hard to recognise. And when I open my eyes they are hit by the electromagnetic waves which everyone agreed to call ‘light’ and the different colours that go with it. The ‘acoustics’ in the air, which we call ‘sound’, relentlessly goes through my ears which my essence tries to decipher their meanings. What I call blue and loud maybe perceived by others as different colour and sound. We may agree on a name, shape or sound but really the perception of it is personal.
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