The Street, Rinsed
A street in the rain is a different street. Colour deepens, sound shortens, and everyone walks with more intent than the errand requires. It is the same geometry rearranged by weather.
Surfaces admit what they are
Dry pavement hides its repairs. Wet pavement shows every patch and seam, and a road you have crossed a thousand times turns out to be a ledger of decades of small municipal decisions.
Sound collapses inward
Rain removes the far distance. What you can hear shrinks to your own street, which makes an ordinary afternoon feel smaller in a way that is not unpleasant.
The best part is afterwards
Ten minutes after it stops, the light comes back at a low angle onto everything still wet. It lasts no time at all and is easily worth standing still for.
More notes to follow.