rainy day, rainy night
I love my rainy-day/rainy-night San Francisco. I pause, on my way back from the liquor store, to watch the rain in the streetlight. I poke my head out from beneath the umbrella and let the drops fall on my head. It feels good to be touched by something so pure. A pure and perfect wetness. I return to secret motel with the scent of clouds and storms from the Pacific.