By Zoe Moga, TIWP Student
It hadn’t rained in a while here. While the sky was dark and the air was cold, the city was refreshed. Like a drunk girl having her first cup of water in twelve hours, we were on our way to recovery. Fall had been unusually warm, with thick, humid air and a blazing sun beating down on the dark pavement. When rain clouds began to hover on the horizon, I rejoiced quickly, hoping for at least one day of a storm. Even in a maze of scaffolding and concrete, rain seemed to breathe life into a bustling yet inanimate city. For a moment, when the rain first began to come down, everything went still. People stopped to pull out their umbrellas, or look around them. Business men walked to the large windows besides their cubicle and watched the rain fall down. Students put their textbook down for a second and watched the world around them slow down. Quiet down. Rain concealed the recklessness of this city and it exhibited a rawer form. As the nights turned earlier in the day and November seemingly ended faster than it began, yellow lights began to flicker on. At only 4PM, street lights were turned on. Workers began to shuffle out of buildings only an hour later. Earlier than usual, but rain always seems to do that here. It brings people back. The rain is a medicine for the metropolitan. It cures doubt, removes burdens from their back. It brings clarity to one’s mind, allowing them to think, to think without a million noises going off behind them. My eyes peer up to the sky, looking at the dark clouds. I hold a small umbrella next to me as I walk down the busy street. The woman to my right is on a call, the man to my left is arguing with his brother. As the rain begins to fall onto the city. First a light sprinkle, then pouring. Everyone stops for a moment. But just like that, we walk again. A different destination is now clear in my head.