since no one seems to be writing, i'll just have to do it myself. humph.

the trees forked across the line of sight, a web of criss crossing birds, leaves and oak. she lay listlessly in the heat horizontal on the sofa, watching disinterestedly as two beetles in holy matrimony slowly, painfully crawled their way across the glass. clouds rolled past, beautiful blessed relief, stunning in the weather change they bring.

rain. rain rain rain and the skies weeping, in joy not sorrow as the world rejoiced with it. i would like to think that men, sweaty and tired after back breaking minimum wage labor also looked up from their dusty bread winning and looked up at the sky and smiled as the first drops broke loose and provided amazing coolness in the oppressive waves of heat. I know for a fact that children broke out from their roles as adult street hawkers, as primary household earners, as naan wallas and seven year old fridge repairmen, broke free and ran, ran ran stripping their tiny man sized kameezes and throwing them at the side of the nehr and jumping, canonballing their first world counter parts would call it, shalwars huge and inflated with comical effect as water and air met in places where the sun doesn't shine, and abandoned the vestiges of hard labor that the third world enforces on them, and they became just that - kids in the rain, washed of all responsibilities.