Expect another sunny day, like yesterday and the weeks now gone. Wear light clothes, something that will dignify the humidity pelting your skin and the summer love taunting the rest of your body. The weather shall be warm, which is more than enough to turn some hearts aflame and some others burned by their desires. Act according to the severity of your longing for an affectionate embrace. Tonight, you might just find one in lieu of your pillow, someone who will finally be able to reciprocate your whispers, fondle you, and tell you what you have been praying to hear from the lips you yearn to smother with yours. In a country more tropical than any other, every day is a good day to fall in love a hundred times over, especially if it is with the same stranger. Do so and the months ahead will be as bright as the sun. Summer might just last a lifetime, with little chance of rain.
For the lonely ones, you will miss the rain because of the sun. There will be no clouds to suture the skyline, no shadow to cast itself on your feet. It will be a different universe beyond your doorstep. Consider wearing sunglasses so that the morning light might not reach your heart through your eyes. Close them on moments you do not need to see the world for whatever it brings, like cars when you cross the road or random people when you traipse a random foot path. You are and have always been at home in darkness. The wind, though, will blow in places you have forbidden yourself to go but have gone nonetheless, like the open fields and sunken gardens where people saunter for reasons you cannot begin to understand. Still, you might like how it will soothe you the way midnight gales lash at the candle wick with such brute force it leaves behind nothing, not even a spot of wax. Good for you. There will be no infantile memory to trouble your conscience. You are alone. In your solitude, you are at peace.
If you favor the moon over the sun, stay indoors in the evening. Sleep under the sheets, wrap yourself with a blanket, but go out in the day not because a total eclipse will grace your searching eyes but because there will be none. By day, you will only have to face one sun. By night, however, you will have a million splendid stars blinking in the vast distance, spread out like a carpet of immobile fireflies outshining the moon you wish to pluck from that infinite space with your tender fingers. The night sky cannot guarantee a full moon. There might even be no lunar spectacle to begin with. So take the path of least resistance. Seize your moon between sunrise and sunset when it shows itself, no matter how faint. Where you are in the city does not matter. The moon will find its way to you, even if you are as blind as Ray Charles or the heart that you keep.
Unfortunately, weather forecasts are not as accurate as they pretend to be. No one gets it right at any given day. Even meteorologists stand at the mercy of the clouds they wish to plot on a definite course. In this crude state of predestination, decide for yourself what weather you want to have. Stroll around. Be your own prophet, one who is attuned to the accidents of the elements. Walk like nothing can stand in your way, not even the sun or the moon or the clouds or the wind or your fucking ego. Wear your heart like a pistol. Aim it at no one in particular. Better yet, aim it at yourself. Pull the trigger.
For the lonely ones, you will miss the rain because of the sun. There will be no clouds to suture the skyline, no shadow to cast itself on your feet. It will be a different universe beyond your doorstep. Consider wearing sunglasses so that the morning light might not reach your heart through your eyes. Close them on moments you do not need to see the world for whatever it brings, like cars when you cross the road or random people when you traipse a random foot path. You are and have always been at home in darkness. The wind, though, will blow in places you have forbidden yourself to go but have gone nonetheless, like the open fields and sunken gardens where people saunter for reasons you cannot begin to understand. Still, you might like how it will soothe you the way midnight gales lash at the candle wick with such brute force it leaves behind nothing, not even a spot of wax. Good for you. There will be no infantile memory to trouble your conscience. You are alone. In your solitude, you are at peace.
If you favor the moon over the sun, stay indoors in the evening. Sleep under the sheets, wrap yourself with a blanket, but go out in the day not because a total eclipse will grace your searching eyes but because there will be none. By day, you will only have to face one sun. By night, however, you will have a million splendid stars blinking in the vast distance, spread out like a carpet of immobile fireflies outshining the moon you wish to pluck from that infinite space with your tender fingers. The night sky cannot guarantee a full moon. There might even be no lunar spectacle to begin with. So take the path of least resistance. Seize your moon between sunrise and sunset when it shows itself, no matter how faint. Where you are in the city does not matter. The moon will find its way to you, even if you are as blind as Ray Charles or the heart that you keep.
Unfortunately, weather forecasts are not as accurate as they pretend to be. No one gets it right at any given day. Even meteorologists stand at the mercy of the clouds they wish to plot on a definite course. In this crude state of predestination, decide for yourself what weather you want to have. Stroll around. Be your own prophet, one who is attuned to the accidents of the elements. Walk like nothing can stand in your way, not even the sun or the moon or the clouds or the wind or your fucking ego. Wear your heart like a pistol. Aim it at no one in particular. Better yet, aim it at yourself. Pull the trigger.
