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it's something about rain |
| The rain stops. The soft scent of petrichor is brought in by the cold wind. Echoing outside is the melodious dropping of rain drops trapped on the leaves of acacia as it falls down to the wet pavement. Birds sing again their usual five-note tune, not in unison, but one after the other. From my window is the ROYGBIV streak painted by the hands of goblins. The rain stops. I’ll wait for it to start again. |