When i was 7, i love stretching out my palm and let those tiny little raindrops dance around my fingers, leaving its cool sensation behind. They'll form loads of staccato on the concrete ground and it really amazed me how each of them contribute to the tune-less, yet soothing music. Theres no melody, yet still send me smiling all day long. Its like this small pixie bouncing in my head, refusing to get out. And I have no intention at all to chase it away. Rather enjoyed its company.
'It's dirty', my mum would say.
And I never understood why. How can such darlings be harmful to me? Perhaps, its just cause I refuse to understand why.