When it rains all senses become alert, like an animal that awakens from its long lethargy ... attracted by food or by humidity. When it rains, it cleans everything, even my soul and I see you reflected in every drop, in the clouds above that fight one another to occupy a little piece of grey sky. Do not ask me ... where the rain is ... it is obvious, or not so obvious, at first sight on the wet stones that give firmness and security to my back, a true shelter. In the droplets in my clothes, in my hair ... in the air I breathe ...
You insist on seeing yourself reflected in a thousand different faces, but in none of them you can go inside, nor deepen, no one looks at you with the heart. Neither they're your last home.
The rain is sweet, the rain could be conciliatory.
Do not ask me where the rain is... everywhere I see!