It's raining. It's always raining here. As you sit in a cafe you hear the raindrops hit the window - kamikaze rain. They hit the glass with such intensity that you can hear their tiny explosions even through the noise of a coffee grinder. The smells of the cafe are intermingling with the smells of the wetness outside - cinnamon, moss, coffee, wet asphalt, vanilla, wet hair. People come in to "dry off". They get their coffee and sit down. The best seats are by the window. We don't like to be in the rain, but we like watching it. The girl at the counter is making small talk with a customer. It is inevitably about the weather. "It's raining," he says. "It's always raining here," she answers.
7 May 2013