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Day Three – "End of the World" Rain

August 13, 2009


It’s been cloudy and humid since I arrived three days ago. Nothing dries–not towels, not bath mats, not rain-soaked shoes, not shampooed and conditioned hair, not dishes on the rack, not the sleeve I accidentally dunked into the sink. Someone mopped the corridor and the tiles have been wet since morning. It is nearly dinnertime.

If this were a “holiday”, I would be disappointed. Instead, I accept the weather and the seclusion it enforces, penning us in our studios and giving us no choice but to produce work, even shitty work, something, anything, whatever it takes to make a rainy summer seem awesome and ok. There is something romantic about all this rain. It sounds lovely, smells good, spurs me to brief and frantic walks to stretch my legs between showers.

“Showers” diminishes the magnitude of these storms, though, makes them sound small and friendly when in fact, each round of rain is a session of cleansing. The lagoons are brimming and the paths are flooded level with the long grass. Sometimes, it feels like rain that might just come skipping along, hand in hand with the end of the world.

I take a walk and shoot some photographs of the next storm fastening the sky to the lake like a zipper. I see the saddest thing I will see my entire stay: a seagull with her wings smashed in the storm, walking along the path by the lodge. I don’t know this today, but tomorrow, I will see her again, splayed on the grass a few yards from where we first met. It will upset my heart enough that I won’t take that path again, not even when it’s the shortest route to where I need to be.

For now, I turn my back on this bird I can’t assist and head indoors, where I continue writing mostly crap.

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