it begins with a shower of rainfall. when the rain is so strong it can wash everything away, like places and people (and feelings.) the sky is in mourning, tears spilling all over the earth, all over us, letting the rain sink into the soil.
and the air is still. everything moves slowly, and lazily, including you. meandering rivers, stones tumbling back into ravines in slow motion, the sea rocking and rocking until it finally tilts to a halt, until all that is left is a slight ripple.
for when the world breaks everything down. there will always be an ark, a lighthouse, a green light across the bay. something to remake itself. when from the soil emerges shoots of green leaves, and a smell that reminds you of home.
welcome to petrichorhotel
By lyvea l.