Why does the rain make us feel so romantic and strange? Maybe its the fact that we are unnatural spectators of it, from inside our homes, and it is a reminder that we have the power to live our whole lives like this, if we choose. Its not the smell of fertile ground kicked up by raindrops, or the slick leaves, or the way we must amplify our voices to be heard over this larger presence. Its the power of the rooftop that makes us want to fuck under it.
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