Just as a curtain of rain is needed amidst the sunniness of a day to produce a rainbow, so life, however illuminated by joy it may be, must always contain some small, interspersing droplets of melancholy in order to blossom into a full spread of colors. Although there are times, where even after the rain, one fails to see the rainbow.
These past few days have been sweltering. Even the winds have become the servants of the sun; carrying across the lands waves of unendurable heat. For this reason alone, I prefer to remain indoors. But, for this reason also, I find myself suffering a dearth of experience. Within the confines of these familiar walls can be found no vivifying inspiration. Thus languishes my mind, and so too the once spirited pen. If only the weather here were better – if only it were breezier and less humid, so that we could take walks in the day as casually and comfortably as we do in those well-weathered nights. There is so much of nature to be assimilated and enjoyed, but so little of it that can be without suffering the whiplashes of heat.