The day darkens. Charcoal clouds hustle the blue across the sky, corral it into a far corner of the universe. The first drops fall, heavy as berries. In minutes the world is a blur. The sharp edges of landscape now diffuse; what was clear is now obscure. Imagination is released.
|Monet. Cliffs of Pourville, Rain|
And then there is the rain in which thoughts come clear and perfectly defined. Each having its own orbit; delicacy its beauty, still sharp as a bullet hole.
|Gustave Caillebotte. The Yerres, Effect of Rain|