The Quatzel crashed onto the sphere of the shrine encompassing the wooden elipse shape of a rather weird shaped entrance for a place meant for prayer. It crashed on to it's tail and went twirling down the stone paved concrete into the roaring mist and lost it's sight in the trail of the thunder which continued to show it's authority, with the strength of it's wind and the never ending series of splashes of rain showers that made the sky look like that one big cluster of a dreary piece of grey cloud draining the colour of the world to a rather colourless monochrome, for the past three weeks. I love rain, yet there's a part of me that feels the danger it could bring, water is always perilious, it can't be contained , specially when there's too much of it. The sky is a weird place, as vast as it is, so is it's anonymity, there's a mystery engulfed in the silence of the soothing blue sky that changes it's colour from red to black throughout the universe, the vastness scares me as much as drowning in an ocean does, the sky looks like water to me, just devoid of reflections. The weather was a bit cold for a day spent in the month of May, the weather report suggested to carry a light jacket to keep oneself warm and to carry an umbrella for the sudden spells.
“Like a storm that wrecks,the rain that floods the bays, there's always two sides, of a breeze that breathes life and a rain that showers prosperity." She said this in a rather brisk tone, closing her diary with a thud, she prayed for rain, she brought rain as coincidences, not in her backpack but in the prayers of her subconscious, the gentle one that breathed life and loved the green.