but but but.
I love driving into town when it rains softly.
It brings out the colors of the fields.
Yesterday I couldn't help but look at everything, made more intense by the rain--the neon orange of a traffic cone against the dark pavement, the bright red of the wet brick buildings on campus, the candy blue car parked in front of Espresso News.
Sometimes I feel like when I look I draw in some sort of archaic energy from the world (ironic, in such a man made environment). There is a balloon in my chest and with each new angle and hue I feel it swell until it feels as if my entire self will explode out of me in a violent riot of color. I feel my ribs, placing a girdle around my ever-expanding heart and keeping myself contained, intact. The body, precious cathedral for the soul.
I am feeling poetic.
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