Morning. Just another day. Sitting in my studio. The light is bright and smiling at me from the window-wall on my right. I am sunk in my pencil drawing, on which I am working for a few days now, my computer sings RFM (the French radio station). All well and happy and perfect (Actually almost perfect, since my man has left for one day).
Then with no warning (at least not one that I had noticed) the light disappeared, so much that I had to stop working. The wind threatened to tear the leaves of our plants and the doors just banged crazily. I managed to close the balcony doors just seconds before the painting on the wall was about to relocate itself to the floor.
I am looking now outside. The rain is pouring in waves that carry it side-ways, the sky is grey. Inside the aircon is on, and with the doors closed, the temperature at home is quite cold.
It feels like winter.
So who says there's no winter in the tropics?