T he rain has stopped and the world looks like a painting. White wispy strokes swirling on a dark and gloomy sky... almost olive green, such as I have never seen, beautiful in its own sad way hypnotic, passionate, intense, for the winds left over from the storm have not subsided yet and they push things around as they play shaking the trees that glisten in the muted light of a tired sun that prefers to hide. I like this subdued, whimsical clarity that envelopes me as I walk in the wetness of my... Sign in to see full entry.