This morning it is very dark, with much rain. I'm listening to the rain falling on the roof and it sounds like the rapid tick-tock of the world's clock. I am ambigious about all the rain and the storms; on one hand I like the rain and the clouds and (when it happens) the mysterious fog. But this morning just seems grey.
Outside the window, I'm watching a cascade of water from a rooftop fall on somebody's truck's trunk. I suppose that can't be good. Time to stop writing, I think, and go tell them about it.
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