Rainy night

Little things. Last night, it started raining, very hard. It's not anything I have not seen before, but it had been weeks since the last time I had heard raining that it wasn't in the afternoon. In fact, I could not really tell at first if what I heard was the rain falling onto the little roof of my balcony or maybe a truck. And it sure did rain a lot. There was a torrential rain for about half an hour, as many I have already seen here. After a grey and cloudy day, I did not imagine that it would finally rain like that. It kept on raining this morning for a while, and it had also been many days since we had had a day so foggy as today. It seemed that I was in a different place and in a different season, because the temperatures were also lower.


Going back to last night again, the street turned into a kind of river and the cars and buses were splashing all over. It stopped raining before midnight, while I was finishing, really eating up, a Raymond Chandler book (The Lady in the Lake). Imagining that Marlowe is Bogart, following the characteristic rythm of Chandler's stories, and enjoying his always excellent dialogues and plot twists could not have a better backdrop than the sound of the tires of the cars rolling over the wet asphalt. It does not matter that it's not LA, you cherish that feeling so vital and distant at the same time, with a little touch of loneliness and emptiness, that a good 40s film noir movie is always able to convey.