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Summer Storm

Summer Storm

When I was a growing up the scent of a summer storm was my most favourite.

Especially at night after a hot day, alone in my room in darkness – just with my favourite music in the headphones I used to open the window ajar and let it in. It was pure pleasure.

The scent of hot concrete suddenly cooled down and damp; all the tension of storm suddenly gone, replaced by fresh sweetness of air floating ever so lightly and shimmering my skin.

It brought such a sense of calm and clarity, like when all weeping has stopped and your heart suddenly feels light and at ease. You savour this feeling and breathe in the beloved scent insatiably.

The usually busy main street under my windows now completely empty, motionless, as if I was the only person in the whole town- No – in the whole world. There is no one else, just the darkness, the air heavy with scent and my mind flying through it in the distance. I never felt so weightless and free – anything is possible, my mind will embraces the whole world. There is no past or future.

The occasional bird may start to sing, as if it had just awoken from a deep slumber surprised to find its own voice and announcing the return of time.

You can imagine the feeling of your bare feet on the still warmish concrete road, a bit later cooled down in the wet grass between the slender young larches under the window.

The sky is low with heavy clouds which you could reach if you cared to cool down your forehead.


I was quite a gloomy teenager, not disliked, but mostly ignored by the popular kids (not that it ever mattered to me – I had my own world). I had “strange hobbies” for those times – literature, philosophy, psychology, synthpop music with its dark and enigmatic lyrics; and black and white photography.

With my best friend we used to go and take pictures in cemeteries, empty children’s playgrounds and in the desolate concrete jungle between the pale blue and grey communist blocks of flats. We called them demon shots. There was a sense of oppressive depression, depersonalisation, strangeness and nostalgic romanticism in them.


What is your favourite scent or favourite summer storm experience? Did you have any strange hobbies growing up? I would be most honoured if share them with me – for example in the “Leave the Reply” section below 🙂

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