Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Portrait of a Downpour

Very occasionally, and usually only in rare moments of near-silence, am I aware of exactly how badly my ears are bombarded by sounds throughout every day. I am sitting now, at my desk, with no music playing, looking out my window and watching the rain fall hard on a courtyard devoid of people. Current sounds include occasional voices from my roommates on the other side of the apartment, and the light and beautiful sound of the rain itself. It is as close to silence as I am likely to get.

The air conditioning just came on. Another layer of background noise. The rain is lovely enough to make it easy to tune out. It falls harshly on the magnolia tree that is just outside my window, but the tree hardly takes any notice. It is a straight-down sort of rain. There is no noticeable wind and no battering of windows. Drops fall from the leaves of the magnolia tree, slowly. Many more drops fall quickly from the sky.

The world is greener when it rains. The sky is pale gray, and the tree trunks are dark brown. This version of the world is loathsome to most people, but the world is cooling off after a hot-sun day. I am glad it is a silent sort of rain, with no wind, no thunder, no noise - just soothing. I am glad it is a constant sort of rain, and has been going for some time, yet every moment I fear it will stop - I enjoy it.

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