tranquil ubiquity

The room is dark, i'm standing in front of the window, perfectly still, thinking, outside it's mayhem, i can hear the wind roaring vehemently, monotonous and regular blasts, cutting through the incessant rain, falling fast, hurling drops on the panes, splashing all over, like a warning, a threat, defying people to go out, antennas and cables are swinging, whipping insanely around, and loud noises are reaching me sometimes, a breaking pot, a shutter flapping on a wall, a vibrating gutter, under that sky uniformly blank, dismal, everything is going mad, and i'm fronting that tumult, behind the glass, in the shade of my little room, and i wonder what will someone think to have a glimpse at that picture, a man, motionless, in the dark, staring at a storm, i figured it's a gloomy setting, a scene preceding a suicide in a film, and no one would want my place, but me, i was peaceful.