Cities in rain

I am madly in love with cities I’ve never been to, air I’ve never breathed, and the cuisines I’ve never tasted. I am a big dreamers, though it is just a matter of time till I’ll gather the courage to make those dreams come true. By these first lines, you might already group me in the “Cliché” category at the back of your mind. That’s fine. You might loathe cliché, but I don’t find it, to a certain degree, repellent. 
I have these scenarios at the back of my mind “Me strolling around Paris, tasting croissants” “Me blending in with the busy crowd in NYC, rushing to work in a fancy linen suit” etc, and sometimes, when they’re nurtured adequately by my imagination, I get this tingly sense in my back bone, a tingly sense of happiness. Like in broad day light, the euphoria is real, and suddenly, I feel as if I’ve cheated myself. What the hell am I doing? Am I delusional? Fantasies. It’s always the fantasies that get me. Maybe they’re healthy, maybe they aren’t. But people, people kill me over time, and they kill me with tiny, harmless phrases, like “be realistic”. 

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It rained tonight. It was one of those humid days where the atmosphere gets confused. You could almost feel it with each heavy whiff: the air wishing it was water. I was in a car heading for a Chinese take-out while the headlights illuminated the sky’s persistent tears. Travelling through the pour-down, encumbered by the bluesy chords of one of Norah Jones’s records, the romantic in me was awakened. With my mind adrift along to the thought of absolute bliss drifting through the loneliest of nights, I failed to realise that shadows had silently crept in and hindered the highway with undaunted shades. Nobody ever appreciates the little things anymore. I decided in the enraptured ambience of the night, that I’ll do it. Because people say that I can’t, I will. I will pursue my wildest dream. I will and I can. Cause after all, tomorrow is another day.