it just started pouring outside. total silence -> water just pounding—not pounding, it’s much too graceful and flowing for that, *streaming* outside on the roof and the ground. there’s something kind of beautiful about being the only one up at one in the morning listening to the rain. no thunder, no lightning, just the sky opening up and all you hear is a steady tapping that’s fuller and richer than just a light drizzle but not a torrent that drowns out all thought and voice. the sound of the rain enhances rather than replacing everything you can hear, but there’s nothing to hear anyway, except for the rain.
A book you’ve read that changed your views on something : Well….a picture book really. Banksy: Wall and Piece. That man is “defacing” property, but he’s getting a message out there. It’s still art. Graffiti may be the most honest artform out there (when it’s not just profanity, that is).