Rain

The rain of Taiwan isn't like the rain of Indiana. When it begins it smells so sweet and the air gets sickly sticky with humidity. The dark clouds roll in and dump out their troubles onto the earth and then leave tired, as if exhausted from a good cry. Leaving behind a dirty, wet smell and a heat that threatens to drown whoever might be walking in it. Here there is no smell before it rains, and the humidity doesn’t precede the dark clouds. Instead the rain is isolated. Alone in its feel, smell, look. When the sun comes up the air dries and the pavement turns back to a dull grey. In Taiwan everything is connected, the rain is felt before it begins, the storm is sensed even after it has left. In Indiana the rain startles, and when it ends it is almost as if it never happened.