"When the rain washes you clean you'll know....you will know." Fleetwood Mac

I enjoy sometimes walking in a nice warm gentle rain. Windy rain is no good - the drops sting my skin. But gentle rains on warm or hot days are perfect. The way the drops touch me like a lover, finding just the right spot that I wasn't even aware of a moment before. The way the water runs over my skin sensually.

The way I feel purified, as if all the dirt and struggle of the day is washed away. As if each moment of anger, of impatience, of not really acknowledging the people I spoke to has been forgiven.

I walk with no hat, sometimes no coat. The rain runs through my long hair, completely soaking it within a few minutes if it's a good rain. My hair becomes plastered to my head, shoulders, back. The water flowing through my hair, through my fingers, through my soul.

And I am alive. Pure, simple, aware only of being wet, gentle drops, a soft breeze.