The stream of raindrops has distorted whole view outside the window of
bus and all buildings, cars seem to want a serious renovation, for they
look so strange and surreal through the rainy glass.
This storm is invincible even for those who have entered public transport, a sort of moving salvation during the rain.
I could not help being so moist in the weather in which an umbrella
is more longed-for than a friend or lover. Though hidden from merciless
rain, I have to wait patiently for the relief of dryness. Moisture disappears from my clothes and hair too slowly and I still feel as if I was outside, under a miserable canopy.
Meanwhile others focus their glances upon books, newspapers, trying to ignore city lights and the rain which seems strong enough to wash those lights away.
But I am still staring at Riga, whenever eyes are opened and mind is clear. There must be something sadder than love within my glance. Perhaps a bit painful adieu to the city, where only my soul can roam. And so destiny drags my body away to the place, where I am supposed to be.
However, I am not about to cry. Let the sky do it instead of me.
