My thing

When I’m drunk I always re-read our conversation, it’s like my thing. It makes me remember that time when I was on mdma, walking around in Berlin and it suddenly started to rain and for a second I laughed at it, as I felt like you were with me.
Because It bothered me being wet and I knew that if things would have turned up right between us, I wouldn’t have been getting wet in the pouring rain. I’d have been in Paris, walking around half drunk and laughing with you about how silly in love we were; and I wouldn’t care about being soaked wet at all.
September in Buenos Aires tends to be pretty rainy, October as well, so I carry an umbrella everywhere. I used to hate them, I still do. The situation is that I can’t get ill because I need to work. But going around carrying an umbrella in Buenos Aires is quite an idiotic thing. The weather here, like the economy, is really fucked. So I wake up to a sunny morning followed by a two-hour storm, that could drag entire houses out of the ground, and then go to bed leaving the window open because is freaking hot and humid (This city is always humid).
So here I am drunk, carrying an umbrella not sure if I should open it because is stupid to use it for these few drops but, is also stupid not to stay dry since I been carrying this mofo the whole day…
I decide to stay under a bus stop until the storm begins or until it stops “raining” and I sit in a bench and start re-reading our conversation and think about how even more wonderful could Berlin had been if it, actually, had never happened.

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