Poetriture

It was just a normal morning stroll. It is the month of August as I write this, right in the center of the months of monsoon. The winds were certainly, particularly volatile that day as all the trees near my house were violently swaying. Dark clouds, all ready to pour down on my little village were curling from the winds. It had rained heavily moments ago, so the ground was wet and the road to the beach, slick. I had unwillingly woken up quite early in the morning, even before the break of dawn, with vain efforts of going back to sleep. After being couped up in the house, behind closed windows, it felt really nice to witness the rain and the subsequent wet atmosphere. My father had also got up, but unlike me he had woken up out of habit. I told him I was going to the beach for a walk. He was busy with whatever he was doing so he just smiled at me. I knew it would rain soon enough. Secretly hoping to get wet, I kept my phone at home. I wore my slippers and ventured into the strong...