Jing guo/ Min quan cross, 5:08 pm

In Place description, Poetic prose, Writing on 2014/05/15 at 23:31

I’ve only been outside for a couple of minutes but I’m already utterly and completely drenched. My shirt clings to my back like a wet dish cloth, my jeans are heavy with water, sticking to my thighs. Every time I brake or change gear, a torrent of cold water runs down my legs and sloshes around in my shoes, when I speed up the heavy drops pound my chest like a fistful of marbles, I’m suffering unmatched levels of discomfort. I see the light turn green and the riders preceding me hit a giant puddle on the opposite side of the street, with big splashes. I cross the street and go in myself, the water level must be over my wheels, a great wake sprays up on both sides; I feel I should’ve come in a boat, not on a motorcycle. At that moment I realize how crazy this is, at noon the sun was still shining, and this was still a road, now the torrential downpour has turned it into a river and I’m traversing it with the wrong type of vehicle, I can’t help but to crack a smile at the thought of it.


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