Can I just say how much I love the smell of rain? The coolness that dissolves the muggy heat, the gentle rumbling of thunder in the distance. Sky invaded by thick, heavy clouds, threatening (or promising) precipitation. Something about these rainy afternoons makes me think that they'll never end, suspended in a cool grey eternity. That is, until the fat drops fall.
How much like life the anticipation -- the calm before the storm -- is. What is it about liminal spaces that makes people wish they'll never end? Dusk, the months before graduation, the time before the clouds break. The hazy time before we're either plunged into darkness blind or with a flashlight.