The plump grey sky drags on overhead an urban plain. It is here that I plant my leisure. An opening to the West features burning waves. I am nearly numb to the dull sound of the action. Unconsiously repeating forever. A cool day like this is a real treat to be included in. On the opposite side of the water is a town built on the slanted side of a hill. Silence pervades the area. Some live in fear of it, desperate to avoid any sense of self. Hopelessly chained to white noise of which can be gained from many sources and is a mandatory part of modern life. I tend to hold those types in disdain. They will never realize the grain of the concrete, the chips of paint, or how the stain of rain grows during a downpour. These things are not special, but to not let myself indulge would be to miss out. I find the human experiance to be defined by the minor things. The sky is reaching a boiling point; it won't be long now. I steal another look at the sea. Water rises, water falls. I am here to take my place in the cycle. The sky shifts, the monotonous patter of water hitting the ground sounds out. The recognizable scent of fresh water to concrete pollutes the air. My time has come. Rather than taking cover from the storm,I rise and lift my arms diagonally to the sky; palms facing upward. The cool drops hit my face and I am hit with a feeling of something far higher than I am. The downpour smothers me and I am washed away. My purpose served, my duty done. All that remains are my trousers and my dirty coat. Now, I am elated. Now, I am left with meaning.