The sun was able to land on objects and people for an hour. However, the rain is not over yet, and the streets will still be filled with a wet rustle. The clouds are coming back for the day. There will be melting snow tonight. It’s beautiful outside, sad, but good.
In my entourage, people flirt with melancholy. It is the season when the uncertainty of the weather seems to make us older. When the sun goes, everything goes, you might say.
I took four pictures, four realities. An old lady was watching young people in the window of a new daycare center, an oiled plate drawing an intergalactic tiger on the asphalt, a few branches radiating with apparent happiness to die, students who, like every morning, hurry to school.
This last picture caught my eye. In the center, the young man who was fooled yesterday. There are some strange accidents. Although I walked around at about the same time, this photo, like yesterday’s, was taken spontaneously without first studying the subjects of the photograph.
This is, of course, a coincidence facilitated by the regularity of the schedules. This is certainly the case nowadays, which seems so equal and cooked in the same mold. By playing with the same hours, it is not surprising to make the same cake again. From there, I could still philosophize in alleys unexplored by my thoughts. Chance likes to plan its wrong moves with my imagination. Too bad it doesn’t succeed all the time because I never win the lottery.