It’s unusual to have this much rain at this time of the year, especially after having such a sunny March and April. But the weather doesn’t seem to care and so every two or three days we have rain.
I’ve always found the idea of rain being “bad” weather a bit strange. I mean, it surely is a bother if you ned to squeeze yourself in a train wagon on the way to work, but when you can observe it quietly from your window, it becomes something special. Something else, entirely. Rain always seems a gateway to other dimensions, other realities.
The cloud are the houses of those realities. When I look up at the stormy sky, I always find the most incredible ensemble of figures and shapes. Some of them even have a character of their own. The grey clouds sometime are wild horses, running across the horizon in an endless chase. At times, in a white spot, you can see a tree and then you wonder if there’s a garden up there, somwehere. Sometimes you see dragons, flying around and looking down and laughing.
Rain stops time. When it rains, it seems that everything slows down. Storms starts abruptly, but they’re over before you can even notice. Thunders and bolts give way to quieter drops of water and you ask yourself when it did it all start? But everything is being washed away by the rain itself. Because of all the thing it is, rain is water. And water cleanse.