Falling raindrops

“He loved being at home and listening to the rain with a cup of tea, sensing the fresh air that was soon to fill the streets, and the calm and nuanced mood that entered his mind. It was a little break, almost like a short little sleep, and it always felt wonderful afterwards. As more things were happening around him at once, there was less time or space to see the different elements that were slowly evolving in him, but he felt good and was just letting the falling raindrops fill his mind and be everything for a few moments. The whole mind just as falling raindrops and little splashes as each drop reached the ground and exploded in thousands of tiny bits of water, in slow motion rupturing the thin surface of the drop as the bulging middle tore it open and silently threw the thousands of bits in all directions in an instant before a little delay, and then the soft sound of a splash, right afterwards. And then hundreds of new splashes all at once. A torrent. He loved the rain.”

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Falling asleep..

“He went to bed, and as he turned off the lights the mind kept working on the change that he had felt today, four or five different groups of thoughts that kept growing and moving in different parts of his head, making sleep a bit difficult that night. As the dreams started to glide in between the groups and disrupting the faintly crackling knots of bustling activity, like little dams of oily purple water, filled with dispersed images of memories from the day that just passed and mixed with random scenes from forgotten parts of his young life and adolescence, then the next second just silence, then again the purple water spreading on a surface, he slowly lost track of what the topics were all about, or even why he wanted to think about them or why they had been there in the first place. Soon it was all gone and just a floating mesh of incoherent emotions and memories took over. By the time he got back to his senses and had regained some consciousness of what this was all about, a little strip of sunshine had again started to seep downwards on the wall, while another one was sliding over the duvet and onto the pillow, and a third one touched his arm and spread a warm intense feeling throughout his body, opening his eyes very carefully in wonder, before closing them quickly again and sliding the sun-touched arm softly back underneath the duvet.”

A cup..

“Then at times, the wide open horizons unfolded in life once again. A sudden change, a little trip, a change of scenery, some mountains or lakes or open fields of beautiful scenery, some peaceful animals and rolling hills and fresh air.

It could be blended into the usual habits and rituals of daily life, peaceful hours of reading or staying in touch with old friends, easy chats or deep interesting talks with new people, a quiet walk in modest nature, or sipping the coffee carefully from a new cup in a new place, or the same one for a while, a cup you had gotten a bit familiar with over some days, or some months, or perhaps even one with strong emotions connected to it, from the person who gave it to you, the time you bought it, or some specific talks or moments which were still quietly and firmly a part of the cup – and subtly remembered or felt at times clearly, but mostly unconsciosly but slightly influencing the mood or the tenor of the feelings, silently infusing some tiny blobs of emotions, briefly felt but sometimes lingering for hours, adding some little color or aspect to the perception of the world, to how you see and feel the room around you, or how you experience the people and streets, the sounds, and your own thoughts.”