A random day with a random tear on a random cheek

It's pouring…you have a steaming cup of tea, with the slightest whiff of ginger in the air…somewhere you can smell the wet earth…somewhere you can hear the twittering of the sparrows, upset that they didn't get no caveat before the downpour…somewhere you can see a herd of impish 3-footers, escaping the hold of their grand mother /parent/ elder sibling/ any unfortunate caretaker, after a brief session of arm wrenching…somewhere you know you are feeling blissful…but somewhere it also hurts…beauty hurts…perfection hurts…kindness hurts…the hurt similar to the tear rolling down the puffed cheeks of a mother at the first glimpse of her new born.

Beauty of nature is such that it makes me cry. A silent cry, ofcourse. Not the agonising, ear splitting, eyebrow knitting cry of a werewolf. but a silent cry...