It despairs the morning among drunken, spring aroma that debunks certainties and cravings for sun. The world walks protected in colorful fabrics, it is collected in the selfish intimacy of the umbrella. The pause of a rainy holiday transfigures a quiet, ethereal and nebulous city. It gives rebirth to that quiet city that denies stress and haste. While my soul blackened in anxieties, absorbs the routine of drops and sees the gardens colored green. My hand still writes and my heart still dreams of asking the routine at the window for that subtle calm that drowns out fear.