night rain A quiet night, Berne past midnight, deserted streets, an occasional taxi cuts through the poised silence. The air is warm, and the smell of rain has been washed away by the same. Drops hit the concrete and splash lightly, inevitably, fated. The ground shines in the streetlights, carefully laquered with wetness; shaded colours, yellow, red, green, white, on black surface.
With houses joined on both sides and coming down a slight slope, I see the Gurten ahead, a black mass, its hilly shape frayed at the edges, trees as black as the hill itself. The rain hits my face and runs down my neck, now slightly salty I guess.  ¶ 10:46 AM