I don’t understand why rain is romanticised to the point of only sexual connotations of various kinds. What is so romantic about it? True, everything’s washed and coloured anew but oh my god it takes a hairpin bend to signify sec c stuff. .
I love the aftermath of rains. The dew drops glitter and sparkle, like diamonds in the jewel shop. It makes you take a second look, makes you yearn for somehow finding a glinting diamond in that shine. .
Rain? I can’t tolerate. Hate it from the depths of my being. After it has rained, however, is when the magic begins. That makes you double take glances. Of dew drops and diamonds.