Why did that word come to mind? Does it matter? It felt comfortable. My shoulders relaxed. I was able to accept and even welcome it. A nuance. I could smile and enjoy preparing dinner with my melancholy and my music.
Interpretation has changed over the centuries. I run to Dürer and the 1500s, Melancolia I, and the state of waiting for inspiration to strike. There is anticipation therein and hope therefor and therefore.
Imagination, reason and spirit.
Comfort in the grey bluster of rain and wind which may usher in a clearing and the sun or later, the moon or stars or satellites.
A hope, a promise, a possibility, a dream, an optimism, not a leap more a demi plié maybe even a petit jeté of faith.
Let the rain muffle the sounds of the mundane, the garbage bin, the car alarm, the lowering flaps of the incoming jet full of people coming home, visiting, passing through.
Jaape On the Beach, pensive?