Three keys dangling. Three keys dangling in the wind. A storm is coming. The large wooden shutters knock gently against the wall as the wind rides in through the open window. All is quiet except for the tumbling of dust and dry leaves; debris left by the usual people who now sit sheltered tucked behind their own wooden shutters, waiting as I do.Waiting for the storm to come.
The breeze coming through the bright window is warm and welcoming as it greets the cool darkness of the room, and the stark contrast is softened. Dancing golden metal glistens in the sunlight against the dark green paint of the wide stone window frame. I can hear a dog barking outside, the wind playing with the sound tossing it around like a paper bag making it dance, one moment loud and immediate, the next hardly audible and distant. Someone below draws a shutter and bolts it shut. The air is filled with foreign smells from far away; sea salt and damp oxide earth. Spices from home, familiar and comforting.
The warm air becomes cool and the bright yellow of the outside dims to a cool ochre followed by a deafening sound like grains of rice being poured from the skies. The green darkens, rich and vibrant; and I am surrounded by colour as the anticipation and, the dust beneath my shoes is washed away revealing a glistening mosaic of shapes, textures and emotions as the rain pours in.
My feet wet and cleansed; the floor washed bright. The sky outside dark and cascading. I feel a surge of excitement as the wind thunders over the roof tiles above my head carrying with it the promise of change.