Summer day, rainy days.
It has been keeping raining for about one week, and I have stayed at home for seven days, too. Sitting near the window and booking outside, I sensed a dangerous hunch — if the rain doesn't stop in a few days, something terrible might happen in our tribe.
I used to like listening to the sound of water dropping on our roof piles as if those droplets are dancing above my head. However, the heavy rain these days was more likely to speak to me in its deep and muffled voice, telling me that something is wrong here.
The wind was howling outside and it kept knocking on our windows, some woods were rustling in the distance, and I could hear the waterfall-like rain swooshing on my roof. It was early afternoon now, but the sky has already covered with dark clouds, making it feel like dull dusk.
