I think I’m okay, or perhaps, I am more than okay...
All I know is that there is a peach tree outside my window
that hasn’t given any fruits throughout the year.
It hasn’t lost any of its leaves, and those leaves remain green.
You know, it’s December.
It’s January. A new year finally arrived, and with it, a biopolar weather.
I can feel the 60 degree Fahrenheit temperatures visiting the streets even when I am all warm up and cozy inside my house. Sure, 60 degrees isn’t that cold but it’s enough to freeze my 28 year old bones when I’m not wearing any jacket.
I’m probably old,
yet my 75 year old neighbor is outside cutting the yard while wearing only a shirt and some pants.
He exercises every morning, and every morning as he runs around the neighborhood, a strong scent of bitterness emanates from his sweat.
Everyone dislike him.
They say is probably because he doesn’t add any sugar to his coffee that he lacks some sweetness to his speech but I bet it’s just his age.
The peach tree is young, and the sky is now mocking it with rain. Its leaves are screaming, shaking - up and down - as winds try desperately and unsuccessfully to deviate each drop.