Summer rain
Heavy rain pounds on the roofs and the streets. Grass fragile and brittle from weeks in the hot sun. Unforgiving rays, bringing the people out to enjoy the great beginning of this summer, but the grass under their feet is not soft and long, no not at all, it is short from breaking under the weight of people, breaking out of dehydration, dying in the dry days.
The streets look darker, dirt washed away and the birds seem to sing clearer, as if they found a small pond of water to sip from and clear their throats in.
Trees are out of bloom already, dead capsules of hope all over the streets, wishing of the next generation. But heavy rain, come crashing down, sweeping the hope away, down the drain...
Clouds separate in a silent divorce, giving us back the blue sky piece by piece.
I can hear voices, I can hear cars. I can hear music and I can hear the ocean.
The sounds of Stockholm after a hard summer rain.
