Of the rain and horoscopes

This evening was just one of those that seemed so MTV-ish perfect.


Of the rain
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I was walking along the University main walkway out to the bus stop along Anzac Parade.
(1940 hours)

Earphones were plugged in, the radio tuned to FM 106.5 .

My trusty blue Giordano brolly held up by my aching right hand.

My legs were mechanically trudging on the wet walkway and with every step my thighs groan in protest.

It was drizzling in that kind of romantically charged atmosphere albeit with an ironic tinge of lonliness.

I could see my breathe in the cold air.

The music was so blue and the lyrics yet so poigantly true.

I contemplated walking into her direction.

I desired to call.

I so want to seek warmth from her hearth.

Then I sigh.

In the lingering wet dark, there, I wait for the blue tin can on wheels.

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Of horoscopes

I learnt that it can be really shitty.