I often like to stay home. The rain makes it easier for me to decline going out. I have my pen in hand waiting to meet a surface, more likely paper. Or I grab a book and dive into the world that awaits me to submerge.
We like the rain because of the white noise.
The sound of a trillion tiny drops per second creating a continuous hiss that overpowers every other sound in the world. The smooth unchanging rhythm of this loud outdoor spray caresses the mind. It’s a break from chaos; a steady dose of consistent and predictable stimulation for our senses, which is a rare gift for reality to grant. Sometimes there is a melody that breaks the monotony –a splash, a hidden leak that creates a hollow tune, or the percussive beat of a heavy beads pattering against metal and glass. But the background stays the same: always hissing.
We like the rain because it forces people to walk around with barriers.
They are obligated to raise shields made of hoods and umbrellas. Raincoats and boots. No exposed skin, no vulnerability. A cocoon of layers that creates a sense of isolation and…
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