Pitch dark, still, at 5.30 in the morning. Waiting for the bus, I was overcome by a rare calmness. Drunk on the scent of spring, the birds were chirping. Together with the light drops of rain, they formed a divine orchestra of flutes and cymbals, caressing my ears and nurturing my soul.
As nature puts on its most vibrant colours and softly paints our cheeks red, I find myself longing more and more for the forest's seductive whispering, the sea's comforting sway, the mountain's eternal, reassuring, solid presence. That's where I am most in touch with myself, where the armour I wear to cope with the everyday grind comes off, where the background noise of work, obligations and troubles dies down. In nature. That's where I am truly alive, that's where I am truly me.
I wished that this fleeting moment of peace and solitude would last all day. Instead, I got an intense 8 hours of work and what felt like the weight of the world on my shoulders.
The wind had picked up when I later ran home from work. Daylight revealed what darkness had so masterfully concealed this morning: that greyness was still abound. Traffic, tarmac, roadworks, gravel everywhere, rain drops sticking to my glasses creating multiple copies of grey 17-storey buildings. Heavy mood, heavy legs contributed to a high pulse throughout the whole run.
One work day left before the weekend.