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Downpours.
Leaving Brooklyn this afternoon, I saw billowing, towering stormclouds out to the west, slowly coming over and in. I took a couple pictures and went on my way, cursing this to be one of the rare days I went out without an umbrella and understanding that I was going home and if I got wet, no harm done. Even if they looked particularly ominous. Not even any texture to them: flat, hard gray, weighing so heavy the sky moved around them.
At the transfer point in Manhattan, I saw a lot of shaken umbrellas and one spot over the tracks - just one - where the water was coming through hard and steady. A singular two-foot rainfall.
When I got out at my stop and saw all the slick flooring just before the steps out, I was pretty well ready to speed back to spend as little time in the rain as I could, except then I saw two people walking down the steps, totally dry.
The time it took me to get to Manhattan was long enough for the storm to move on. I missed it entirely. Not the ecstatic greens and blues that come after a storm, the clarity of color that arrives; I didn't miss out on any of that. Just the storm that made it possible.
What timing.
At the transfer point in Manhattan, I saw a lot of shaken umbrellas and one spot over the tracks - just one - where the water was coming through hard and steady. A singular two-foot rainfall.
When I got out at my stop and saw all the slick flooring just before the steps out, I was pretty well ready to speed back to spend as little time in the rain as I could, except then I saw two people walking down the steps, totally dry.
The time it took me to get to Manhattan was long enough for the storm to move on. I missed it entirely. Not the ecstatic greens and blues that come after a storm, the clarity of color that arrives; I didn't miss out on any of that. Just the storm that made it possible.
What timing.