the air now is moist. you can smell the earth just by breathing slowly. this damp after-rain atmosphere feels comfortably relaxing. it fills my mind with images from ganeca road, that in my hometown. through ganeca road, on fridays, i used to walk carrying old books i borrowed from a library whose collections were inherited from the already closed british council. if i walked after the rain was gone, i took a longer path to enjoy the scenery of two football fields, green with grasses, and with horses and carts, and fellow bypassers on their way around the campus located nearby.
that's how i planned the activity for my weekends. literary works mostly by british and irish authors piled up in my room for a week or two. if i was lucky i finished reading them. but if not, there was no imperative at all, nor even any form of deadline to do so.
the air now is moist. and it is friday already. i am not in my hometown. but it doesn't matter that much. as long as i have old books yellow by age to digest and some bunch of friends to play futsal with. and especially as long as cikini street is waiting for me. of course with your presence and a cup of hot chocolate this will be so perfect.