Do you know what a quiet rainy autumn evening is?

When it’s tranquilly pouring and the sky is so law, when you make yourself get rid of the worries of the day, and the sounds of water-drops tapping on your umbrella and the steps that you invent thoughtlessly wandering along a desolate damp alley carry you away from the world of other people, from the world where all the fuss is left, when your are happy in your loneliness and free in your silence, when the dense leaves of the magic maples and oaks are whispering you their dreams on the both sides, when you are tempted by the wet endlessness of the asphalt path which reflects your sadness, when with every knock of your heels you prolong the eternal, when the leaden clouds accompany you on your way, when the gentle flame of your soul does not contradict the chilling moisture of the air penetrating through the gaps of your clothes, when you open yourself to the stream of intangible bits of light leaking through the thick and soft cover of atmosphere, when the nature is crying but not so much with the tears of sorrow as with the tears of depuration returning you to innocence, bringing you back to yourself, - that’s what it is.