I have already written about Raymon Carver here, but he's the kind of writer that you can't write too much about. You just can't read his stories too much. But go on and try!

Today I was a little sick and stayed at home. Somehow this poem is just the right one today. I'm not just sick but I'm also having a some kind of boring "30 years old"-crises. Would I make again the same unforgivable mistakes, if I had the chance? How many unforgivable mistakes I have made until this age? One or two, not many, not nearly enough. But luckily I still have time. One day when I will woke up as a dirty old man on rainy morning, I will so much miss these days when I was still young, still a girl...


"Rain"

Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.

Then looked out the window at the rain.
And gave over. Put myself entirely
in the keep of the rainy morning.

Would I live my life over again?
Make the same unforgivable mistakes?
Yes, given half a chance. Yes.