The rain was pounding outside, as if warming up for a concert where thunder and lightning were to be special guests.

She sat in the empty room with her eyes closed and felt goosebumps through her body fall into dots, mirroring the amplitude of the street noise in detail. This noise, ordinary for these places, turned into a symphony of Rachmaninoff in her head, soothing her ears with a light touch and whirled around like a bird-of-paradise.

Nervously, the rain was getting stronger, leaving her calmness no doubt. She was wrapped in bliss, as if an invisible dome securely protected her.

You were here beside her. But you didn’t want to disturb her meditation. A subtle smile froze on her face and if you were able to notice it, it would imprint on your face at once.

Her arms were outstretched along the body, hands lay softly on her lap, palms up. Her legs repeated the silhouettes of the statues of Buddhas, her straight spine stretched up to the ceiling, ready to slip through it right away, her neck held her head like an arrowhead. The light dress patterned with flowers, whose names you didn’t want to remember, humbly covered her body until the wind slipped into the room through a tiny hole in the window. It disturbed the peace of the dress and it responded to the intruder with waves.

She didn’t notice it. The music of the rain carried her thoughts far away from here. Maneuvering through huge raindrops, she flew above the city, away from the bustle. Passing thousands of windows that were not yet lit, she managed to break away from the nets that stretched for kilometers of interconnected people and now felt truly free.