On a rainy day

On a rainy day, I lie down and do nothing. When I heard my husband wake me up, I got up and got into my clothes. I went to the diner, about three blocks away.

I slowly grabbed the cup of coffee and drank a sip. I wrapped it in my hands and looked out the window. The view of street is bleak. I sat for a while like a heroine in the work of the painter Edward Hopper, who expressed the loneliness and alienation in everyday life in the metropolis. The restaurant filled with guests is in contrast to the scenery in his paintings.

The rainy day naturally went back to bed and opened Alice Walker's The Color Purple. In a letter-type novel, the main character, Celie wrote to God and her sister. She emerges and wisdom comes to the world with the appearance of Shug that Celie’s husband loved. It is a novel about how Celie’s love is passed on to the people around her and makes everyone happy.

Would I like to go to the Guggenheim Museum, where I can get free on every Saturday evening? Would not it? I could not concentrate on the book because I was thinking about.

The rain stopped. It is another small refreshment in the city to step on the bare ground of the park where the water gradually falls. All I have to do is cross Central Park from home. I went to west Central Park 96^th street entrance and walked around the lakeshore, headed to the museum in the 89th and 5th avenue. The long line for free goes around the side of the museum to Madison Avenue. After a long wait, I was able to get inside the museum.

I looked roughly the art works from the sixth floor. It was already dark outside. Can I take the bus? Or across the Central Park again? As I recall the accidents that occurred in the park, I looked into the dark forest and it looked like a black cave. There is no one in the distance but a couple was walking far away. I started to think that I’d better catch up with the couple and walk together.

I ran like the athletic meeting in elementary school. I caught up with the couple. I did not want to interfere with those who walked tenderly and affectionately. I slowly walked a little off, but the woman turned around. I asked, "Are you going across the park?" She replied, “Let’s walked together.”

The wind hiding in the dark forest moving busily to drain the damp grassy leaves. The wet grass breathed a fresh smell. I looked around the dark feeling of passing black objects through the darkness, but only the footsteps of the three of us walking along the thick sandy trail led through the darkness in search of the light. A long. Wet day that could not concentrate on any one place went away into the darkness.