Raindrops

It's raining.
Not in an undefined timespace continuum.
Right now, as I write this, on Tuesday, June 20th 2007, at 0:28 (Paris Time), it's raining cats and dogs.
I'd say tigers and wolves actually.

The night is dark. Darkness just pierced by the lamp posts. I can hear a neverending drum solo on my roof window. Last time I checked, you could see the rain falling in the dim light of the street, falling in big drops just like in movies.
When the drops hits the road, you can see the hole they make in the layer of water that covers the ground.
And the rains pours just like in a Hollywood movie. Until you see it for real, you think this size of drops is an invention of a crazy techguy.

Somewhere, far away, the thunder rumbles and echoes.
It is late, but I can't help listening to the rain, reminding me of this evening when I strolled under a first wave of water. The same big drops. Each one of them splashing agisnt the floor, coming over your shoes. Water flowing down the street, water falling from the sky, water infiltrating any piece of garment straight to your underwear.

Water everywhere.