I like the rain

A small cross hung unnoticed from a telephone wire suspended across the street. Rain pitter-pattered against cool window panes and shiny streets, a soft, almost undetectable mist rising as a result. Fresh air and comfortably cold people, dressed in swanky coats, yarny scarves, and warm boots wandered the pavements, glazing over the funky coffee bars frequented by funky young people. The scene’s black-and-white photo appeal eased into calm Sunday morning as artists and writers ambled towards stationery shops and bookstores to make their living.