I look out from the balcony and see the last minutes of twilight. Night is about to take over. It is wet everywhere. Raindrops are falling from the floors above mine. I look up to catch some into my mouth. Fail. I’ve now a wet face minus a wet mouth.
A French song comes from the next room. In response, I look at the big vast sky above. I see six crows, flying in tune with the song I hear. That is my magic number, I feel happy. I see a seventh coming from afar and the numbers dont matter anymore. I see white clouds pacing and for a moment lose all my inhibitions. I spread my arms in delight.
I look around. Grandma Girl (name I gave to the elderly lady I see at the opposite building everyday) is busily chatting with someone I cant see the face of. Could be her son. In another flat, a child is whirling around with his cycle. In the road below, a woman has caught an auto rickshaw.
The French song is still floating in the air. I feel so perfect I must be in love. What a beautiful world. Happy birthday Cris, you are lucky to have lived here another year.