There’s a rain. It’s almost the only thing keeping my spirits up, most things feel wrong. I know, somewhere in the thick skull, that they’re not. But real and imagined kind of blurs, the line is not exactly clear.

So I sit here, listening to the rain and read comics. I wish I had something else to do. Right now, I swear I’d be the worst participant to play “anywhere but here” because I’d be ecstatic about a fucking bus-stop.

The sound of rain though, that I’d carry with me. And the coming in from the rain smell. That’s almost as good as the sound.