It's when it rains, we stay inside, hidden away from sight. All we have are the four walls for our voices to echo and bounce off into each other. At times, we would tell stories around a metaphorical campfire and talk about the untravelled grounds of our lives and how we would one day travel down them. At other times, we would let the stories tell themselves over spilled coffee and crumbs from this morning's stale toasts - these stories are often told in silence without many words if any at all.
Eventually the rain withdraws and we go back out again to enjoy the rare bit of sunlight and part ways, even for awhile, to seek more stories than the ones we tell each other. And when it rains again, we come back indoors and share the stories we gained on our journeys.
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