The rain hid you, soaked and sheltered you. It hid your tears, maybe even cried for you. It made you feel refreshed when you felt the world around you was falling apart.
The way the city lights shine on a rainy night is just so magical. I watch as tiny droplets of rain and mist hit my windowpane while I snuggle up somewhere cozy with a good book and a cup of creamy coffee or maybe watch a good movie. These are the times when people look up at the sky and say ‘oh shoot, it’s raining’ and I just smile to myself.
After the deluge, the air is clear, and every surface bounces light like a quivering kaleidoscope of colors, shooting different spectrum of light everywhere. I really enjoy walking home right after a rainfall. The rain drenched surfaces seem to amplify and echo. The swoosh of traffic taking on a rhythmic pace that works like white noise – calming me.
After the rain, contrasts are starker, smooth seems slick, and dilapidated takes on the air of poignant ruin. It’s an insular experience. I pass other shrouded figures shuffling down the street, but we’re each in our own world, walking our own line, lost in our own thoughts. After a rainfall, I feel oddly at peace and calm. To some, they would simply get wet under the momentary bliss of getting soaked in the rain… but for some, every drop brings in a lot of memories.
The puddles of rain dance up and down rallying their souls as they strut up the block, baked in the warm glow of the city lights.
There is something magical about riding alone along a city street on a rainy night. You feel the cool damp freshness on your face and playfully contrasting it with the dry warmth inside your jacket, where the rain cannot reach. You’re miles from home, abroad in the night yet a host in yourself, a moving castle, alive, aloof, slipping unencumbered through night-lit scenes, reveling in collective memories. That sense of late-night transience and romantic long ago and the pleasing melancholy of lights glistening on the pavement.
Rainy, cloudy, gray days are soft and gentle. They smell good. They make the colors everywhere more intense deeper and richer providing wonderful contrast to all the other colors…there’s a clean, shiny feeling, much like when snow is fresh on the ground.
A pale slate kind of gray is a really beautiful backdrop for all the myriad things that make up the world around us. Colors either blend in a soft, pretty kind of way, or they pop, creating a pleasing contrast. Rain seems to take the edges off the corners of my day, cushioning me, drowning out the noise that constantly bombards me.
Ever wonder why people say they like the sound of rain on the roof? Why they say it makes them sleep well? Rain speaks to our inner child. Babies and children sleep better when there is some sort of white noise, a steady thrum, audible, but in the background. It is said it reminds them of their mothers’ heartbeat, heard in the womb.
she looked out of the window and saw the raindrops bathing her pane. the vision of the world had gone blurred for her. all she could hear was the splash of the water. she had always loved rains. there was something magical about it. She wonders why some found it gloomy.
The craze of the coalesce drops, she never really understood but in spite of it, she fell in love with the craziness.
For me, rain is like a magic tonic for my mind and soul. Everything smells fresh and feels cool. Gray, cloudy, foggy, rainy days are my portal to other worlds, whether they’re in my daydreams or in familiar and much loved tales.
Music soothes the savage beast. I believe it. Rain eases the weary spirit of our inner child. I know it. And yes, anyone who thinks that sunshine is pure happiness has never danced in the rain