Admiring the World

I watched the rain. Watching the rain on the roof is like observing paint drip off a canvas. The smell of wet grass swelled across the suburb. There the city is – bright, diffused, modern, vintage, still, opaque, or lively, and always beckoning with an air of mystery ‘See what you can find.’ Tonight’s was different, as the rain blurred the boundaries of the city, distorting it to a new state of beauty. The rhythmic patter filled the air in a swell of musicality that deafened all other sounds with its majesty. The edge of the enormous metropolis, so faded as to be almost transparent, speckled with shades of black, ran curved, like a track field, far, far away along amber roads whose light was dimmed by an unknown light board operator. The rain was sharp, the land seemed to sparkle and harden with ice. As the cold water poured down on my face, the more it felt like little pin needles than refreshing droplets. But the crisp cool air softened the droplets into comforting feathers lightly dusting all that it touched. Here and there silverish-goldish stars brightened up the edge of city, with a pointed tower over them perhaps. Buildings only some decades old, and yet older than the history of most of the people living there. Every other day the city looked the same, as though it were in a picture; but now it has transformed into a sparkling wonderland of fast paced stars lighting up the night.