Cars walk slowly, shuffling like a tired procession. The sounds of everyday life, words and voices are blocked out by the sound of water coming down decisively from the weeping sky. At first the rain falls glidingly timid and subtle, almost intangible, even a little unpleasantly irritating. But then it penetrates the pavement, hitting the asphalt thickly and with force like skittles. Its odor pierces the nostrils, pulling sharp jets of unfamiliar fragrance from the heated earth, it penetrates under the doors of entrances, in stores and buses.
It becomes a continuous flow. With its constant and measured roar, the rain resembles an awe-inspiring gentleman, stomping and bowing as if it wants to adjust to the oppressive rhythm. Slowly the minutes drag by. Every corner of the sky yearns for a patch of blue, but the clouds gather with surprising speed, expanding and swelling into one disproportionately black point, inspiring fear. They come menacingly, advancing and sending a gray color settling over the streetlights, trees, and houses like a sheet.
The city becomes like an old black-and-white photograph. The mind falls asleep, the soul tends to fall into a colorless and monotonous hibernation, but the heart suddenly calms down. The will carries away all former ingenuity in its idle slumber, bending and submitting itself entirely to circumstances. The lazily prostrate hope goes into a waiting mode, gently but insistently infecting enthusiasm with the anticipation of bright sunbeams bursting through the clouds. She scans the air as if sniffing it carelessly, waiting to be rewarded for her persistence in the form of timid echoes of the waking city.
Gradually, the smell of humidity that permeated the air softens. Like an old bear awakening from a long hibernation, the scent of flowers caresses the nostrils. Rejoicing at the new light breaking through, the soul rises again above the trolleybus wires, trying to touch the wet leaves. Like a wholesome epidemic, joy permeates every living thing. Now the droplets sliding down the windows do not seem dull, welcoming the awakened senses.
My gaze travels beyond the hills, stopping with satisfaction on their emerald ridges. The sky lights up without asking permission, and the former silence, already filled to the brim with the tinkling trills of birds, bursts into my heart. The thunderstorm goes far away, intoxicating the world it left behind with joy.