It has been raining in abundance in Paris for the last several days.
I really love rain.
Recently, for the first time in five years, I was suddenly trapped in an incredibly heavy downpour.
I was without an umbrella since they are always either:
1) Forgotten at home or in another place, generally almost immediately after having being bought.
2) Not replaced yet, usually right after having been lost.
3) Broken, often just after having being bought as I tend to buy cheap, four-euro umbrellas manufactured in China.
Fortunately, I love rain.
This time, I found myself in the middle of the street when the rainfall started. All intelligent and fleet-footed people – even those with oversized, expensive umbrellas- found refuge under something.
I was on the verge of running to join those prudent people but suddenly froze stock-still, rooted to the spot.
Rain was beating on my head, cold wind was lashing at my face. It hurt, and yet suddenly I felt fantastic. The rain was literally washing all of the weariness off me. All at once, time seemed to stop. I was alone, the only person standing in the street getting more soaked by the minute, and without any protection whatsoever. I had the impression that the more the rain beat down on me, the more it battered me, the stronger I became. I slowed my pace and sloshed through the empty Parisian streets, thinking of absolutely nothing.
When I made it back home, my shoes were filled with water, and my face and my hands were bright red, throbbing with pain.
Despite the agony, I felt reborn.
I just love rain.