an ode to rain; world in tears



'Rain', Ann Thomson


Yesterday I went to an art gallery to see the opening of an exhibition and the painting above was there. I stared at it for a long time. I tried to figure out what it was that drew me to it, and I reckon it's the colours. Specifically the combination of the rose pink and both the crocodile and pine green. It reminded me of rain, and thus home.


In Hong Kong the deep green landscape outside my window deepens with the rain. Bullets of water pound against the glass but inside I'm dry and warm. Pink, my colour of tranquility, fills my body. The continual pitter patter drowns out any cerebral noise and I'm left with just the water and earth.


When it really pours, the rain bounces off of the roof in front of me. It's so powerful, yet it dissipates so quickly. In a second it melts back into the ground. The cyclical nature of it grounds me. It's just a pattern of coming and going, and I'm reminded of simplicity.

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