Such a steady downpour of rain like I've never experienced before. A new sound, a new feeling. Nothing like the storms of the American midwest, so mercurial and often punctuated with lightening and thunder, the spark of their worth. But no, here the steady promise of more rain to come, a weight in the air that promises it. And only the sound of tousled leaves to accompany the pattering sheets falling on the grass, leaves and pavement beyond my balcony. A faithful storm.
And was there a bluer sky than today? The air of fall.
Such must be the weather of typhoons, where the ocean rises above the land and comes down upon it. A feeling of its depth and persistance. What does it do to a person to have known this their whole lives? What does it do to a culture to have learned how to weather it?
I could live in the sound.