New York in the RainWhen it rains, everything goes watercolor in this world of asphalt and concrete. When there's water in the sky, you can see this city's dreams written with paintbrushes.More Like This
People come here to fade away or to be found; they come here for nightmares or for fairytales. I can see it in their eyes that are hiding under red umbrellas, and I hear it in the pitter-patter of their shoes as they skip across puddles. (Those stagnant ponds might be dotted with rubbish, but they're fragments of the landscape I've come to embrace.) I even notice it as they rush away into each other, to Someplace and Someone I'll never know about.
I see peoples' cappuccinos, mocha lattes and black coffees steam in the cool air, and then the vapors disappear into the brick and stone. But for a moment, they danced with cigarette smoke and made masterpieces in the mist. I just cannot keep from smiling.
I like to walk around until the lights blink on in all the buildings, making the facades glisten through raindrops. That'