She said that the night before she stayed over in another arrondissement. So, she asked me to stay downstairs at the lobby of the campus housing apartment. After about twenty minutes, I took the elevator and knocked on her door. She asked me to wait for a few moments because she wanted to organize her room more.
I stood in front of her door and listened to the music she plays and the sound of water splashing against the sink as she scrubbed her plates and pans. I felt anticipated to see the visual aspect of her living area that accompanies the audio background.
A cluster of steam-like fog was drifting out from a white plastic oval object on her desk, spreading towards the rest of her room. At first, I thought it was present to create a special atmosphere. Later, she told me that it was a humidifier. “Because I have an allergy, I need to use a humidifier in European countries.” It covered the center of the desk, creating a misty view.
The freshly-produced humidity was unlike the dampness in the air during the humid days on the streets. It felt clean and refreshing as if water is broken down into delicate tiny particles that fill your lungs with a new essence of freshness. It felt colder than the air around, too.
The rain started pouring. I asked if she wanted the window to be shut. “No,” she said, “I like it when it rains.” Listening to the raindrops, along with the humidity, and the dried fruits on the window pavement, all created a calm, refreshing, naturalistic mood.