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loving a rainy night

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i went out after dinner and dawdled back. it's
raining, but i don't care. i'm just glad not to be working anymore. this is the longest week i can recall in recent memory, though i know i've had my share in the past few years having climbed the steep curve of learning in a few different jobs.

the sweet relief of not having to rack my brain to find some elusive missing iota of information is incredibly liberating.  it's not that i learned how to launch rockets or anything, but this
past week has proven challenging to say the least. if the possible side effect of cramming too much stuff into your head is a giant headache, i experienced it; with tertiary symptoms of feeling extraordinarily obtuse and dense. to be honest, i really don't want to do this job, i am simply compelled by financial desperation and need, so from the corner i will attempt to work out to a better place.

there's the faint aroma of lilacs in the air…….my favourite. nature's aromatherapy…

the pit-pat of droplets is comforting and i take the long way back. down the street, bypassing the crosswalks, opting for the corner and the streetlight. i don't trust drivers at the best of times. 

i ponder again the empty lot on e. columbia and think to myself that a community garden would be perfectly suited for the spot. loads of room. put that on my long list of things to do. how does one make that happen?

a young man startles me from my reverie as he passes on my left. i have seen him around and on the bus. he's got a startling handsome face; lightly flushed, all angles and perfect stubble. his hair is cut fashionably  long, deliberately studied and messy. most women would kill for that head of hair. i had made the assumption that he worked as a mechanic or some similar profession judging by the coveralls he's in the habit of wearing, and has on again tonight. they seem distinctly at odds with his bearing. he is carrying a giant sign that boldly states simply "hello you chicken faced c***" or a sentiment very similar. the c***is covered haphazardly by a piece of paper, but since he is carrying it upside down the message is easily read. as he carries on down the street i wonder who the recipient of this rancor might be.

a softball game of intrepid players is taking place on the soft carpet of emerald in the park. a flash at the top of the steep incline of the road catches my eye; a cyclist is aggressively pumping his arms in the air as he begins to gain swift momentum.

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About d.

a practical dreamer, a wanna be artist, a dabbler in writing, photography and whatever other shiny thing catches my fancy

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