I love those great places... (in work)

Balboa Park

The sound of people moving,

laughing, loving, crying, adventuring.

The feel of the hot sun countered by the cool winds

gently pushing the clouds across the delicate blue sky.

The old Spanish buildings, covered in stucco and plaster,

beautiful as they age, more mysterious as time goes on.

The small kids running about, their mothers chasing them.

The calls of performing artists or musicians, the air saturated with

the sound of music in the air, of fountains gushing water, all highlighted by

the silence of the old museums, with their exhibits of the past.

Filled with silence and study, leaving them is like stepping into a hurricane

of bright colors, of green plants, of blue water; It is the feeling of being

at home while also being somewhere far away, of being close to others

while being in an old private place of your own. The rose gardens,

the Japanese Friendship gardens, the grass moving under your feet.

The park is a place away from home,

but sometimes seem closer than a house.

The

clusters

of clouds in the sky

send lightning racing down

my back. The empty silence

that normally comes with grey makes

a nice contrast to the normal sounds of

every day. The beautiful grey skies casting

tears over the earth, wishing that the plants

would grow and become tall. The feel of cold rain

on the skin, of splashing in puddles, of getting wet.

I love the rain. The smell of rain, the taste of rain, the

feel of rain on my skin. Every drop is a small package of

beauty, crashing to the earth, living a short but sad, eventful

life that ends with a death so sad that it inspires plants to rise

and catch the other drops, love them. I love the black and white beauty

once the rain has stopped when you see no color, of the silence as the world

recovers,of how an entire universe of silence can be found in a moment.

I love everything about the rain, from being outside splashing to sitting

inside enjoying being dry. No matter where I am, I am only happy

when the sky is weeping and grey. An ironic twist of reality, I

find the moments I hold the most to be the moments of

sadness that put the happiness into perspective,

like the rain does to sun.