When it rains here it is as if a gigantic shipwreck from yesteryear turned the Mississippi River over while unearthing itself, spilling water on buildings and land, turning the paved streets to rambling rivers in order to sail again if only to seek revenge. Rivers of revenge!! Windshield wipers of wrath!
It really rained here.
It rained birds in Kentucky:
I lost an earring and a sweater on my trip, but I found a sock crumpled up in a boot - as well as a box of old Japanese stationary (old as in 1990s – it wouldn’t qualify for A Collection A Day or anything).
It all unevens out in the end, I suppose.