How long before the world becomes wireless and we are known only by our screen names?
Because I was thinking about the affect of overcast skies on the tone of the day and then stumbled across a blog with this poem on it (I really like the second half.):
(Originally written in Portugese and translated by the author into English)
Why is the drizzle sad?
Is it because it seems that nature weeps?
White, cloudiness, Absence
– nothing –
Says the wind blowing cold, melancholic.
And this silence brings me such despair!!
I prefer the noise of the rain.
It seems alive, vibrant, even joyful.
The drizzle doen’t even moan. It’s quiet, surreptitious.
Like those feelings of sadness, and melancholy that fill our hearts once in a while…
that also come like that. Silent, peaceful
(and pierce us deeply…)
Through the drizzle one sees the foggy world,
Near-sightedly out of focus.
“Drizzle, get out of my eyes.” – says Mário.
Get out of my eyes
Get out of my heart
Because your silence suffocates me.
-Lilian/Mame(e) in Translation