A crazy storm hit the city’s peak hour the other day. The apocalyptic conditions caused frantic Melbournians to wade through the torrents and maim each other with their flailing umbrellas.
The regular commuters scrambled into the tram home, shook off the rain from their sodden fur and took up their usual positions. During the journey home, most started Instagramming the photo they took of the beautiful light of the storm rolling in over the city before it hit. I had a sudden urge and need to jump off the tram and dive back into the wintry downpour. No headphones, no umbrella.
Catching the same tram with the same people each day. Scrolling through my LinkedIn profile to see who has endorsed me for skills I don't think I have. Watching seemingly normal people get abusive towards each other as they jostle for a tram seat even though they've probably been sitting on their arses all day. Triggers that snapped me into the present and caused me to dive into the stormy elements that evening.
I walked home along the beautiful bay while winter took over the neighbourhood. I felt the fresh rainwater hit my face and allowed the wind to push me off track. My clothing got heavier as I trudged through the deluge. I stood under the palms and watched them sway from the blustering, biting gale.
It was magic.