Rain poured down on the entire day, only in the late afternoon it decided to take a break. I left my Mac and books behind a closed door and went for a walk to the garden in the East Village.
I remember my last visit here when the late spring sun bore through the gorgeous clouds. The pink sakura petals were falling...And now all the colors were being carried away by the fall wind.
On the bamboo fences and criss-cross hedges I saw tatters of spider webs; and where the threads were broken the raindrops hung on them like strings of white pearls. I was also delighted by watching the raindrops rolling down of their own accord from the plants where they had lain so heavily.
There was something so enchanting in the sound and smell of the raindrops–––an invisible beauty with the lingering scent of true nature. What most impressed me was that they were not at all impressed.
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