I never worried about the weather – until now
As a child I loved storms, and as an adult, too, I’ve felt an excitement in the presence of dark skies, lightning, thunder, the rushing sound of water, puddles, the smell of wet clothes. I also like fine weather, but for me the smell of the air before the rain has something more.
Whenever it rained, my mother had endless warnings. She was afraid I’d catch a cold, she bundled me up till I was almost suffocating, she worried about wet feet. But I dreamed of splashing with my feet in the rain water; I wanted to feel my hair pasted to my head, the drops sliding into my eyes. As a child and adolescent, I experienced rain as a promise of adventure – the exposure of the body to the wild, a challenge to the swelling, threatening sky. And as a woman I loved spring; I’d happily lie in the sun, but I adored autumn, too, even the arrival of the cold. I never worried about weather: heat, humidity, wind, rain, snow, cold – the more I was outside, the better. The seasons were time running pleasantly in a circle, like a happy dog chasing its tail.
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