When I saw from window of the house, the first rainy season,
I want to dance below the dark clouds. The procession of drops ... A child coming out of me, ran away. Adult one inside me , stop me, hold my hand .. Between the rain and my childhood, a wall of age has grown. It seems like my childhood rain also grown up ..
Those drops were knocking on the wall of glass. I always played with them. Maybe that was calling me. But then I was small and these things were big. Then who had to go home at the right timeand the rainy season is for cup of tea and pakoras. Lived with satisfaction, then that time ... that watch ... Being larger grew somewhere. It seems like my childhood rain also now grown up ..
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