A gloomy day, and a smoggy day.
When I got up early morning and looked out of the window, I saw wet ground outside. A heavy fog was reigning the neighbourhood and I couldn’t see things clearly. I could only see the vague outlines of the nearby buildings looming ahead like some brooding monsters.
The air was filled with moisture, the wind chilly and cold. The tiny drops were stuck to my hair and dampened my hair. The people were totally at a loss of what to do with the volatile weather and their reaction to it entirely different: Some were walking with an umberella while others didn’t; some were afraid of the rain dampening their overcoats, while others could not conceal their delight and excitement and were enjoying the drizzle to the top of their bent.
It is said the rain in the spring is as precious as oil, and I am as chirrupy as a bird. The spring, full of vitality and energy, is a fresh beginning for me, and everyone else.
Bathed in the relaxing drizzle in the spring, I am praying for a promising and fruitful year.