The rain fell slowly almost as it not wanting to, gently calming the thirst that the heat left behind. She entered through the open window sifting with her timidness the penumbra now already cool. The houses and things were still, letting themselves be touched by her presence and the drowsy time, looked at her like a child. The blue and gray blended together, water and air that played in the sky now hidden in kept silence, and the rain fell slowly stretching out her arm to gently touch the branches and vineyards. No one spoke, only she sang and more than sing she hummed a slow tune that moved in harmony with the feeling. What fragrance her face gave off, shiny and pale, fresh like a young rose that parfumes the sitting room in a copper vase. The forgotten sun finally peeked its light, though dim, through the soft layer of wet cotton, and the rain upon seeing it, gathered her hair and let herself kiss the nape, warm and alive, like an expectant woman.

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