Under most circumstances I love the rain. I love the first rain that comes after three months' drought, when the land is so parched it has forgotten a life with water and given in to its arid world, and when those first drops hit the ground the earth heaves a sigh of relief and it feels as though the whole world is reborn. And I love the rain that is hardly a drizzle, that clings to spider webs and the ends of your eyelashes, and the rain that lashes against windowpanes while you are inside, warm and dry, a mug of tea in your hand and a book in your lap. I am fortunate, then, to be here during the rainy season. Most afternoons -- around 2 or 3 pm -- towering cumulus clouds form above
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