
Once again, it is raining, and once again, I feel the urge to go out barefoot, to run through the rain and make paper boats. It seems I still do not understand—or perhaps I simply refuse to grasp—that I no longer have the steadfastness and security of your hand that makes me feel like a child again. And yet, despite this, I cannot forget those rainy days in my hometown when I clung to you, as you held my hand and ran through the rain right there beside me.

