When it rains, a city has a nice feeling, it’s comfortable to look out the window and imagine all kinds of things as if one is traveling back to the town as it was a hundred years ago on a rainy day, but that city could be an imaginary one. Any actual village at night with rain has a certain beauty; the reflections on the wet city streets and the thoughts of color create a mirror-like image as if the roads were part of the glass and one could see underneath the street. Sometimes they seem part of a world that is part of a futuristic city, with lines of overhead lamps that create vertical lines of reflections. Then there are the moving reflections of cars creating moving abstractions on the wet streets; in the distance circles of light come through, seeming as if they are a place in a dream that never existed. Observing from a window to the outside when it rains creates a comfortable feeling of being safe from the cold and rain.

The rain is a rejuvenation; for some people, it could be a time to be quiet, maybe it’s a time for memories, a time to think the world is better, there is a time after the rain when everything is wet, it seems quiet. There is a feeling of tranquility from the sound of the shower when it rains very hard.

There’s a picture of a leaf, it’s saying something, but its voice is silent. It’s a leaf in a pool of water with droplets, it seems that it’s pulsating.

When it rains, everything seems to have life, something coming alive. Things are more profound. There is a sense of forever. An ideal world of one’s creation comes into reality, a place to go to during the storms of life.

Combined with memories, maybe memories that never existed. A subtle wind, a streetlamp with amber and hazy glow, raindrops falling down the window, and a green landscape outside as if a part of a door is ajar with a bit of memory from childhood that has come to the observer, but where was this memory from? Another vision its a garden, it seems old; people walked there once, and the park could be anywhere in the imagination or memory.

The rain gives a sense of renewing, the rain finding a new avenue for the day, and a sense of power reemerges like a butterfly that had just come out of its chrysalis.

Robert J. Matsunaga