I was reading a short story before bed in which the writer described, in great detail, the feeling of Winter having left, Spring having not yet arrived. The whole world gray and melting and wet. And I realized it’s been years since I saw / felt that time of year, that weather moment. In LA, it’s pretty much the same, year round, except for the four days a year when it rains and people stay inside crying or ram their cars into each other. Reading about that weather time, I missed it. That wet air feeling. The thought of not having felt it in so long made me so sad. I want to find wherever it’s gray and wet and fly myself there and stand in the middle of it. Don’t rain and clouds unlock something inside of us, air out the sadness? Don’t they create a perfect backdrop for big and hard questions, deep thinking? And if we don’t live through them, do we miss out on this part of our thinking entirely?
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