woke up at 5 am to the orchestra of dry lightning and thunderstorms playing out behind my blinds like the fountains of bellagio in the sky. thought about the short conversation i had with v earlier in the day, about affection and the end of things. i watched the lightning blast through the sky and felt so comforted by its loudness, its predictability, its regularity. i liked how i felt like the only person in the world, feeling for the first time in a long time so wholly me again. yesterday evening, on an uber home, i saw the sunset pinks of the sky dance by like the nordic auroras. i see these rare sunset pinks peeking out a lot lately, and for a person who loves the cloud and gloom, i couldn't be more thankful for clear skies. i remember how intrigued i was, that cold november day in bus 72 in paris looking at the faded pastel condensation-ridden windows, the other day heading to school and looking at the burgeoning sunrise through similar windows on the sbs bus. i love the fog and gloom, i love the condensation and pastel skies, i love the thunder and rain. i don't think anyone can imagine how my heart swells when i think of and see these. the beautiful fleeting days. like rewards, pockets of treasures from the muggy heat. sometimes i think i still struggle with my identity formation, but when i'm in the midst of all these, i think i've got it all figured out.