Carrying the Clouds

When I left my flat to get some caffeine and escape the feeling of being trapped in the house, the sky was cloudy. I couldn't recall when it had last rained in Barcelona. “Finally,” I said to myself. With the moody weather, I didn't have to smile either.

The day slowed down, and I watched through the café window as people hid under their umbrellas when the first drops landed.

Born in Saint Petersburg, I used to think that living in a sunny place was a blessing. I felt that way too during my first year in Barcelona. Until rain became a dream. Preferably, heavy rain, when your clothes and face get wet. I wear no makeup, so I have nothing to be scared of.

Like cities, people have their own weather. Some naturally carry the sun with them. They wake up light and let life carry them in a way I never could, probably because I was born under different skies.

Finishing my coffee, I was dreaming of walking in a park with yellow and red maple leaves falling from the trees as summer was coming to an end.

There is no such park in Barcelona.

.