As the rain fell
I stood still, under the storm that was turning white that lonely night, looking above
I remember it as if it was yesterday (In fact, it was yesterday (or the day before yesterday (I don't know, I guess I don't remember it that well))).
Anyway, there I was, looking at my favourite words rain
n i
a
v
f
l e
s
h
e
m
s o
t
o
b
e h
n
y d
o
f
a i
r c
o b
n
r e
t
h r
t n
s
a n
i
e h
c
e
o s
p
i g
l r
i
g
n m
e
t e
l
r
a
m
e
i
p n
u
e
r
e
a d
d r
e
v
s i
p
r k l
a
u s
n
i s
o
d n
e
i e
s p
p r
a i
l l
m n
i i g
n
d g
h
d t
s p
e a
i
r
s
p
e
c
t
r
u
m
Also:
-despair
-among
-neighborhood
-mountain
-strangeness
-stubborn
-charm
-swallow
-surgeon
-shelter
-underneath
-unfaithful
-violet
-tunnel
-wave
-worthy
-golden
-whisper
-wild
-wind
Then everything mixed into an illegible alphabet soup on the ground, which I kept staring at/looking at, trying to put together/assemble/rearrange the consonants and the vowels into words, the words into phrases and the phrases into images that would be proyected into that display in our minds we call imagination,
or memories, which are kind of the same thing.
And the memories kept coming into my head, memories from when I was that naive kid who talked to animals. All animals; even the smallest ones, even the scariest ones, and even the most disgusting ones. Some were my friends, some were my enemies, but each one had a name and a story.
'Chapter 8' from 'Season 5' started to play in my mind:
s u m m e r 1 9 9 8
a u g u s t 2 1 . g r a n d m a ' s s u m m e r h o u s e ' s g a r d e n .
1 5 : 4 2 .
-Hey little snail, come here! What's your name? – I grabbed that little snail and looked him into his 2 eyes (or 4, I still haven't figured it out (at my age...)).
- My name is Alexander – said the snail
But I didn't pay attention to him. I didn't pay attention to anybody that year. I was mad no one told me my dog had died. They told me he had scaped, but I found him 2 days later inside a box, with three holes in it's chest, while I was searching for treasures in my neighbour's rubbish (like I used to do every wednesday afternoon).
-You won't answer, eh? Well, I will call you Alexander, you look like an Alexander to me.
Alexander was a pilgrim snail who spent his whole live travelling the world in slow motion. I gave him food, and shelter for the night, and in the morning I sat in the garden from 06:00am until 01:13pm without moving any muscle, watching Alexander go.
I was sad seeing my new friend was leaving, but Mother told me when Grandpa died, that sometimes it's good to let some people go, and that we should let them. But I still didn't know who I had to let go and who I should hold on to. So I decided I would let Alexander go, and that made sad, but I wasn't scared, because I could always follxow it's trailffhg bvaftñokl-lkmknkjnllnk.
kjjhgyftdxsxawqewrtthgbnkopñlpñlkmjnbvc cgvhb g f as a r t y u i o p l.
But the rain kept pouring more and more letters into the pound, and everything started to scramble. I tried my best to keep my imagination rolling, but there was too much information, too much noise was gathering into that pond and I suddenly became dizzy and fell on my knees. I cried.
Looking back on that night, I realise the little naive kid in me was lost inside the willow tree, clung to the memories of the past, making it hard to move forward. But I have to move forward, and maybe it's time to let go of that little kid in me. I don't know. I still don't know who I should let go, and who I should hold on to. Maybe if I had paid more attention... but I still don't pay attention to anybody. Am I mad? The kid is lost and my solution is to let go of him? I'm mad. 17 years later and I'm more lost than ever, I realise I don't know much about anything, I haven't lost my faith however, and I hope I find someday, at last, something like happiness.