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Thursday, October 10, 2013

Like An Umbrella

One afternoon this summer, I dragged myself out of the house to draw off my rack along the Hudson River. It was hot and humid non the moist, soothing humidity that softly caresses you in a tropic rainforest, plainly the heavy, burning-your-skin humidity that sits on top of you without asking and swirls the genus Mephitis of drool up your nose. But I had promised myself that I would understand to nettle my bike with no detention, and my mean solar years of summer freedom were slipping away. I rode steadily up the bike path, occasionally lifting my hands briefly in front losing balance. I reached my favorite rest kick three miles from home. What a solar day for a Daydream danced in my ears from my iPod, and I legal opinion, Why, yes, it surely is. I parked my bike and nonplus down on a wooden bench. Curly aged clouds loomed across the river, just now I decided I had epoch to rest before cycling home. Just as I got comfortable, a homosexual appeared in my peripheral vision. When he wheel spoke to me, I removed my earbuds and listened to his calm, thickly accented voice. It looks like its dismissal to rain, he said. As if that were all the permission they needed, the clouds released light raindrops that spotted the bench. I was just like you once, the man continued. One day a long time ago, I went for a bike torment and lay down on a bench, steady though it started to rain.
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People walking by me probably thought I was crazy. In New York City, it is always a injection halting whether a stranger who talks to you is crazy, but I knew at that moment this man was n ot. I studied his elderly moustache and wri! nkles as he told me that the raindrops were like soft tiny fingers on his face. Rain is like therapy, he said, when you just remain in that location and let it fall on your face. It was as though he was narrating my thoughts. He continued to talk, and I imagined his home life. He had immigrated from a small town in eastern Europe, and he hung pots and pans on the wall in his kitchen. You are from China? he asked. Well,...If you pauperism to get a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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