Gleaming streets reflect the lights so easily absorbed in a mix of asphalt and rubber.
Children revel in the raindrops while adults curse it.
Jobs are delayed, roads become clogged with traffic, the city grinds to a halt to take in the first rains of the year.
The first rains that come and go like clockwork.
Like the summer winds and the autumn leaves, the rain imposes a silent presence within our lives.
There is no escaping it, the inevitability becomes paramount.
And as the drops wash gently over our faces, our lives stop.
For a short few moments, we are only involved in ourselves and the rain.
All sounds fade away, all distractions ceased.
And for one short moment, we are born again.