Sunday glow

I love the wind.
It's blowing through my hair, when I'm on a boat in the middle of the Mediterranean heading towards the next beautiful island, or we are riding in an open jeep in an African park to reach the top of the crater to watch the dramatic sunset from above.

I hate the wind.
It's blowing through my hair when I am crossing the big boulevard to get to work, it's making us freeze on a wide grey beach on the North Sea, it's passing through several layers of warm clothes making me curse the day I went north of the 42nd parallel.

I love the rain.
It's pouring on a Sunday morning and I'm in bed, warmth and softness around, listening to the melody of its hitting the roofs, or it's washing up a muggy summer day and making the air fresh of oxigen again.

I hate the rain.
It's pouring incessantly from a sky of lead, it's soaking my feet, ankles and legs, all the way up to my soul, feeding rather than washing up pain.

I love the sun.
It wakes up my day, my house, my grandma. It wakes me up. Me, my spirit, my body, my memories and my imagination. My glow.

I do not think I'll ever hate the sun.