Isn’t it ironic? That the angriest sounds provide her the best relief.
No, not the sound of people yelling (if anything, that annoys her the most).
Some of us may be a little confused. Let me clarify.
She likes the sound of heavy rainfall, especially thunderstorms. It’s the best form of music to ever grace her ears. I say heavy rainfall as she finds that drizzles are too light and leave rather fast much to her dislike. Heavy rainfall, drowns out the all the noise of the world and replaces it with its own melody as it pours from the heavens. That is what she loves the most about it. Along with her, it brings its brethren, the spine chilling wind and the twins thunder and lightning.
A tad odd right. Let me explain how the show works.
First, the lights dim. The sky tones itself into multiple shades of grey, creating an impeccable aesthetic. The show begins.
The first member makes its presence known. The wind’s breath tickles her skin, making her hair stand straight. She especially likes when it makes the temperature drop. The feeling of the wind kissing her fingers and feet, making them cold to the touch, she embraced it with openly. The curtain opens and it reveals the main attraction. Beginning as a drop, then a patter, it evolves into a harmony of drumming. Sometimes the intensity of the beats would change, other times constant, but it never went out of rhythm. Her favourite performances are when the twins make special appearances. Lightning, white and composed of pure energy illuminates her space relaying the message ‘be calm’. Thunder’s roar, born mere seconds after, rattles every bone in her body, releasing tension in her muscles.
Each by itself is a beautiful symphony but when its siblings join the stage, the performance becomes more captivating. It’s the only concert she never complains about. To her it was nature’s form of appeasing her mental turmoil that plagues her mind every now and then. Especially her anger. Whenever she’s angry and her blood is ablaze, the chill of the wind seeps into her along with its coolness, easing the heat. Her body relaxes as the percussions give a mental, sometimes spiritual, massage that always unravelled her core yet at the same time stitched every wound. The lightning, a clear imitation of her actions and the thunder the words yearning to be spoken. The general coldness of the atmosphere that makes her soul reacts erotically. She welcomes it.
ns 15.158.61.5da2
