From a high point

I sat there by the grill less window looking out to a new view. The sky painted grey. The air was fresh as if it had a shower. I wrinkled my nose as the cool breeze kissed me. The landscape was the expected view of concrete and cable lines running across buildings like a link of sorts.

All my life, or at least as far as I can remember, I have lived on the third floor. So this new view from the forth floor was as fascinating as the everydayness of life to a new born. The world seemed a little smaller and quieter from here. I felt a little taller from here.I sat there over thrown by the lucidity of that moment. A new view, a new sight and a beautiful book, The Catcher in the Rye, I held. And to complete the moment… it began to rain. You know, the instant it poured all the birds, thousands of them, flew frantically for cover. I never really noticed this before, this instant panic that subsides the moment it stops raining. I wondered where they went.Did they fly home or to the nearest possible shelter? Do they go searching for their friends or are they cool with sharing a branch with strangers?

It’s funny how we all instinctively run for cover when it pours…

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