commission.crimes.brussels.spring

It had been raining 24 hours straight, I was walking up the street and felt sorry for my shoes.

The wind made the rain fall vertical so that the drops were splashing on my eyeballs, blurring my vision. I blinked, my eyelids forming human windshield wipers.

There was a tiny black bird on the railing singing it’s little heart out in the jam of 5pm traffic.
Rue de la Loi.

The spring was pouring in.